Steps
by Teenager
Summary: Ichigo counts the steps, Ulquiorra counts the seconds, and Grimmjow just counts the deaths until they can finally destroy what was never meant to be. UlqxGrimmkitty fic, onesided IchxUlq. Some violence, rating may change depending on how lame I get.
1. Chapter 1

_Leaves off after chapter 315. Contains spoilers, I guess. Multichappie fic, I dunno how many, it's still in progress. May contain adult content in later chapters, but probably won't, cos I'm lame that way. Beginning is idiotic, I haven't written anything for so long, I'm out of practice._

_This thing needs to automatically capitalize all the i's I type._

_Pairings: UlquiorraxGrimmjow fic, onesided IchigoxUlquiorra. maybe more pairings as I write, I can't tell._

_Disclaimer: Don't own._

**Steps**

Chapter 1:

-

Ichigo counted the steps.

He counted the steps backward.

Five hundred thousand, three hundred ninety seven steps from the entrance.

Two million, three thousand fifty-eight to where he had left Renji.

Three million, four hundred and two steps to where Rukia was.

He counted the steps forward.

Fives steps to where Kenpachi Zaraki stood.

Fifteen steps to Nel.

Countless steps to Orihime.

And Ulquiorra in between those countless steps.

His eyes darkened as he remembered his last encounter with the Espada. Ulquiorra had beaten the snot out of him then left him to die. His grip tightened crushingly on his zanpakuto hilt as the pain of the final blow washed over him once more. There were so many things for which he despised that Hollow. He had kidnapped Orihime and marked her as a traitor, he had nearly killed Ichigo, he was a skinny little fuck with an emotional range of a teaspoon… Ichigo hated him. Everything about him always made that barrier between anger and pure fury crumble and disappear. He promised himself he would kill that conniving bastard even if it meant his life.

He wasn't going to wait any longer. White sand flew in a glittering arc as he pushed off the ground, shunpo-ing across the vast expanse of Hueco Mundo. Ulquiorra's reiatsu made a straight, even line across his awareness, leading him to what was surely a trap. But Ichigo no longer gave a damn whether they meant it or not. He wasn't going to run, not when his friend's lives and that of his hometown lay on the line. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to go faster, but the reiatsu wasn't getting any closer. On the contrary, it seemed to fade away, as if the Espada was traveling in the opposite direction he was.

"Shit." He muttered, "_Shit_."

Suddenly, he skidded to a stop, whirling around as if he had just realized something. He narrowed his eyes and tried to sense Ulquiorra's reiatsu again. What he found confirmed his suspicions. With a snarl of frustration, he started off back where he came from.

-

A dark foot stepped soundlessly on the ground, shifting the sands imperceptibly. Another followed, white hakama swishing softly with the movement. Both stopped beside each other, spaced about a foot apart in a perfectly balanced stance.

"Grimmjow, you fool."

The sixth Espada's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused. Blinking quickly, his vision improved enough for him to be able to recognize the shape hovering over him.

"Ulquiorra." Grimmjow was too tired to even put his word into a question.

Ulquiorra stared down at him, his face impassive and calm. "You fool. What did you think to accomplish with that exploit? I would have thought that you, as an Espada, might have had a little more sense of self than the average Hollow, but I believe the circumstances fall short of that." Grimmjow averted his gaze, his eyes half-lidded. The clear blue color was dull and glazed. Ulquiorra watched for a few seconds more. "Fool…" he whispered as he knelt down in the sand and dragged the other arrancar up onto his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" Grimmjow growled, but his words lacked their usual biting edge.

"…" Ulquiorra remained silent for a moment, then, "Doing my job."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm to keep as many of the Espada alive as I can. Aizen-sama will be displeased if you were to die."

It may have been a stupid trick his ears were playing on him, but Grimmjow thought the honorific added to the end of Aizen's name was somewhat strained and superficial. He smirked, lips curling over somewhat bloodstained teeth.

"Really?"

Green eyes snapped to his, oddly still against the blur of sand as they sped across the ground.

"Do you really care enough to save me?"

Ulquiorra's eyes darkened. "Yes. Don't question my loyalties. I live to serve Aizen-sama." There it was again. There was a faint tremor in the smooth, analytical voice.

Grimmjow didn't have much energy left to keep his eyes open. His smirk slipped off his face as he sank back into unconsciousness, leaving himself at the Fourth's complete mercy.

Ulquiorra mulled over what Grimmjow said. Did that arrogant fool expect him to waver in his duties or even think to defy his god? _I am to serve Aizen-sama with my body and soul, to the end of death._ He reminded himself. Cursing, he tightened his grip on the rather larger body in his arms. He couldn't doubt his leader, not in a time like this. Aizen-sama _will_ make this world something bearable, he _is_ working for the greater good, and they must realize that he is doing this for their benefit. It was the logical explanation, and Ulquiorra was content to serve the ex-shinigami as long as this was the logical decision. Whether he died or not didn't matter, that was unimportant.

As long as it was logical.

Bringing himself back to reality, he realized that the shinigami that had defeated Grimmjow was tailing them. His reiatsu was carelessly cast around, exploding in every which direction. Ulquiorra's nose wrinkled in disgust. People like this were trash. If Aizen-sama hadn't asked him to, he would never have even laid eyes on such a crude persona, therefore making his existence a little less tedious and miserable. Slowing his pace, he stopped at one of the hidden passages leading into Las Noches and slipped in, stumbling a bit under his passenger's weight.

Closing his eyes for a moment as if he would sigh, he laid Grimmjow on the floor and dusted himself off, rubbing distastefully at the bloodstains on his prude uniform. Then, shoving his hands into his pockets, he leapt back out into the open, the dark of night unvarying from the gloom of the tunnel. He waited for the next fool to come.

Trash.

-

He felt him before he saw him.

Correction:

He felt it before he saw it.

Hollows did not constitute as anything more than monsters, or things. He refused to acknowledge the possibility that they were humane enough to have genders.

And Ulquiorra was no exception. He stood before Ichigo, hands in his pockets, stance nonchalant.

"Shinigami." He said be way of greeting.

"Ulquiorra." Ichigo growled back, pointing his zanpakuto at the arrancar threateningly. "Where's Orihime?"

"You know where she is."

"You bastard! Tell me where she is, or I'll just kill you now! I don't have time to waste on you!"

Ulquiorra closed his eyes for a moment. Such situations gave him a headache. "Trash. I don't want to have to go through this again. We both saw what happened the last time you pulled something like this. You cannot hope to win, shinigami, defeat is the logical outcome for you."

"The last time we fought… it was different." Ichigo said, choosing his words carefully so as to not give too much away.

"How so?"

"Last time, you were at an advantage. The last time, you had the element of surprise. I dropped my Hollow mask before I could beat you, and I had other people to worry about besides me. While I had my mask on, it was easy to see that you were no match for me." Ichigo's look hardened. "Given time, I would have killed you."

Ulquiorra stood very still. Ichigo used the silence to continue to goad the Espada into a fight.

"Why aren't you moving, coward? You're afraid to fight me, aren't you? Because you know I'm right, you're the trash now. I _will_ kill you and save Inoue and my friends as well. I was stronger than you in vizard form, wasn't I? And you would have died had you-"

"Trash."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "What?"

Ulquiorra finally turned his head to look at the shinigami. "Trash like you always talks like that. You think you can taunt me into fighting. You are a fool, just like the rest of them."

Then, his fingertips were millimeters from Ichigo's wide eyes. Ichigo barely contained his gasp of surprise.

"Shit." He said. Ulquiorra had somehow attacked before Ichigo registered the movement.

Green eyes stared disdainfully into his. "You cannot win against me, shinigami."

Ichigo snarled. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" he swung Zangetsu in a wide arc, aiming for the pale, slender neck. Just one hit. If he could somehow land one hit on this Espada, he may have a chance. But there was a flicker of motion as Ulquiorra expertly avoided the blade, using the minimal amount of movement. He hadn't even taken his hands from his pockets. Another flash of white was all he had for a warning before Ichigo felt a foot connect with his chin, sending him flying through the atmosphere. He hadn't even cried out yet when that same foot crashed into his chest, sending him speeding towards the ground again. He gasped, all the air leaving his lungs with a _whoosh_. There was no time; he couldn't even draw enough breath to use his bankai. He thrashed futilely with his sword, trying to connect with anything, everything, anything that could save him-

_Crack._

Something slapped against his sword arm, smashing it forcefully into a wall. Ichigo screamed, his voice drowned by the sound of the crashing rubble as he felt the building crumble behind him. Zangetsu dropped to the earth as the bones in his arm splintered under the force of the blow. Forcefully biting down on his lip, he cracked his eyes open and looked to the side. Ulquiorra's wrist lay against his, the Hollow gazing impassively at the limp, broken limb. Then, he stepped back and thrust a hand back into his pocket, leaving Ichigo to fall to his knees, clutching the broken arm.

"F-fuck…" Ichigo hissed, shaking, "Fuck you, bastard…"

Ulquiorra disregarded this. "Now do you see the difference in our skill levels? You cannot hope to defeat me, shinigami, it is against logic." He looked down at Ichigo. "Your mission has failed, it was doomed to do so from the beginning. Give up."

Ichigo refused to meet his eyes. He knelt on the ground, head bowed. His shoulders heaved as he hyperventilated, shock and pain setting in. He couldn't do this. For all his efforts, for all his training, for all his promises, he couldn't kill Ulquiorra. As much as he hated to admit it, the Espada was right; they were too far apart in terms of skill and experience. Clenching his teeth so hard he could hear them grind, he narrowed his eyes in hate and anger. He wouldn't die. He would keep fighting until he died- which was probable- or he rescued Orihime. Much less probable. Slowly, all the muscles in his body tensing and straining, he looked up. Brown eyes met green. He could read nothing in those emerald depths, but it mattered little to him. All that mattered was what he was about to try…

Without warning, he grabbed Zangetsu in his left hand and lunged, thrusting the sword forward. With a sense of grim satisfaction, he saw Ulquiorra's eyes widen fractionally, the arrancar scrambling to avoid the attack. A triumphant smile spread across his face.

-

Grimmjow opened his eyes.

_What the hell?_

At first, he thought he had gone blind. Then he realized he was in an especially dark hall of Las Noches, with no one in sight. Groaning, he heaved himself to his feet.

"Shit…" he staggered and fell against the fall. Retching, he heard a sickening splattering as something hit the ground. Grimmjow wiped the remnants of the blood from his lips and raised his head.

Suddenly, he was aware of the sounds coming from outside. There were screams and several thuds, then a not so quiet crack and the rumble of a crumbling building. Just faintly curious and far more annoyed, he dragged himself to the entrance and pulled himself out into the night, wincing as the breeze ripped at the gaping wounds in his body.

But all that was forgotten as he took in the sight in front of him.

Ulquiorra stood, bathed in moonlight, his sable hair blowing gently in the wind. Kurosaki Ichigo knelt before him, staring up at the Cuatro Espada.

A black sword pierced Ulquiorra's chest, the tip jutting from his back.

_A:N_

_Hopefully a cliffhangerish ending._

_Review plz, you've wasted a hell of a lotta time reading it, just review! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh crap! I wrote this chapter way too fast, there definitely will be very sloppy places. Tell e where it needs revision  
_

_Some bad words come into play this chapter (damn Grimmjow and his mouth). And sorry for my inconsistent POV-ish things. I switch between characters, depending on what's easier. If it bothers any of you awesome readers, let me know!_

_to my lovely reviewers! Thanks so much for the reviews! it makes me fell happy and fuzzy- hey, if I felt warm and fuzzy inside, I would take that as a bad sign. i mean... fuzzy._

_Disclaimer: insert le witty disclaimer here, bitches._

Chapter 2

-

Ulquiorra counted the seconds.

Five…

Four…

Three, two, one.

There.

He counted the seconds it took for the shinigami's expression of satisfaction fade from his visage, only to be replaced by one of shock and horror. His green eyes stared impassively down at the pathetic human on the ground, fear rolling off of him in waves. Ichigo was frightened. For the first real time since he had entered this world, Kurosaki Ichigo was afraid for himself. Ulquiorra didn't smile, but set his dark mouth in a disapproving frown, contempt and dislike written across his features.

Ichigo continued to stare, his knuckled whitening as he tightened his grip on his zanpakuto. Ulquiorra should be dead. He should be skewered on the end of Zangetsu like the Ninth Espada had don't to Rukia, so why wasn't he bleeding? Why wasn't he dead? Why was he still looking down with those hard, condescending eyes? Ichigo's throat worked furiously, his words dying with his hope. A bead of sweat burned its way down the side of his face, falling to the ground without a sound. He was acutely aware of the wind tugging at him gently, swirling around the two of them. Every second seemed to have been stretched across the span of several hours, slowing everything to a near stop. Lips trembling, he finally managed to find his voice again.

"What…? This… T-that's…" his breath came in harsh gasps, shoulders trembling violently, "… impossible."

Ulquiorra blinked. _Trash_. "I do not wish to repeat myself again, Kurosaki Ichigo. You cannot defeat me."

Brown eyes widened. His gaze traveled up the length of his zanpakuto and found the source of the problem. Ulquiorra had avoided the blow with the minimal amount of movement once more, this time opting to shift his posture ever so slightly so that Zangetsu ran straight through the hollow hole resting between his collarbones. So simple, and so effective.

_Shit._

"You have failed once more, shinigami." The Espada was speaking now. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Grimmjow was conscious again, and was watching them silently. "Abandon your hope. Your side is far inferior to ours, and Aizen-sama will have the world in the end, no matter your futile struggles."

Quietly, he took a carefully measured step back, off the black blade, until he was just out of reach. Then, he shot a pale hand forward, plunging it again into Ichigo's chest, corresponding with the circular gap in his own.

Ripping it free with a spurt of blood, he straightened up. "I dislike repeating myself, shinigami, but it seems I must. Now die, and despair." Brown eyes glazed over in pain, and Ichigo collapsed forward in a heap as Ulquiorra's hand ceased to support him.

Ulquiorra turned, and began to walk away from the scene, but a trembling hand stopped him. He looked down again. Ichigo had raised himself up on one elbow, panting with the effort, and grabbed Ulquiorra's ankle.

"Stop…"

The arrancar closed his eyes as if to sigh, then pulled his leg away and continued to walk, ignoring the dying shinigami.

He walked straight to Grimmjow, who had seemingly lost all his energy and was curled on the sand, blood oozing sluggishly from the many vicious gashes. As Ulquiorra approached, he struggled to raise himself to his feet, coughing.

"Shit, Ulquiorra, _shit_."

"What?"

"You beat him like… like… _fuck!_" Seemingly running out of words to use, Grimmjow looked back up at the Cuatro Espada, but it was not respect or surprise written in the blue depths.

Ulquiorra dragged Grimmjow to his feet, his movements fluid and smooth. "Trash gets treated like trash. We are leaving."

-

"Stop."

They didn't.

"Stop, goddammit."

This was disregarded as well.

"For fuck's sake, just _stop_ for one minute!"

Ulquiorra landed rather heavily on the ground and Grimmjow tumbled out of his arms, growling softly as he hit the stone floor. He coughed again and looked up at Ulquiorra. The Cuatro Espada was breathing rather hard, though he was struggling to hide it.

"What is it?" he asked monotonously. The smooth voice hitched slightly once.

"It hurts like a bitch." Grimmjow growled weakly, then added as an afterthought, "And you're tired."

Ulquiorra shook his head. "Not. I'm not tired."

"Pfft." Grimmjow snorted. "You look tired like shit to me. Or as tired as shit can get, I wouldn't know."

"Your crude manner disgusts me."

"Whatever. You're tired. Admit it, you pasty little fuck."

Ulquiorra didn't answer, but sank slowly to the floor beside his companion, still trying to calm his breathing. Grimmjow stared at the ceiling, using his finger to trace a random pattern in the dirt. His eyelids were heavy; he was sure he had never felt this tired in his life. He swallowed the desire to flinch as pain lanced up his chest and shoulder, where Nnoitra's blade had cut him. Heaving a sigh, he turned his head slowly, painstakingly, to look at Ulquiorra again. The Espada was leaning against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. The green eyes were half-lidded and cloudy; for once, Ulquiorra had lowered his guard, even if it was involuntary. Grimmjow smiled thinly. It was now that every trait of the pale arrancar was refined, the frail body looking even more fragile, and the melancholy expression looking even more forlorn, every sharp angle of his body outlined in the darkness. He wanted so badly to take that delicate body and just _break it_, snap the thin bones to pieces, rip apart those stringy muscles and just smear all that red blood over white skin until nothing was left. He wanted to devour everything about Ulquiorra, and leave nothing but a lot of blood and a few dark memories. He needed to-

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell was he thinking? This had to be nothing but out of control hormones, he couldn't think crap like this. _Shit_. His hand clenched around a fistful of his tattered jacket as he squeezed blue eyes shut, willing the incriminating thoughts away. It was simply his hormones running havoc in his system, nothing more. He growled softly, breaths coming in shallow gasps as he both tried to stave off the pain from his actions and the emotions that were currently tearing him to pieces.

In a flash, Ulquiorra was up and alert again, his green eyes probing Grimmjow's. Grimmjow opened his mouth. "What?"

"Does it hurt?"

Blue eyes widened. "Like hell it does! You try to get beat up that badly and have it _not hurt_."

"I was not implying that." Ulquiorra said, sitting back, "I was merely inquiring as to your condition-"

"Oh, speak a language we all know, will ya?" Grimmjow sighed and stared back up to the ceiling. Ulquiorra remained silent, but he stayed alert the entire time, listening carefully for any sound out of the usual. The silence stretched awkwardly between them. At length, Grimmjow spoke again.

"Remember what it was like before Aizen?" he asked softly.

Ulquiorra looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his expression giving nothing away. "No. I am an artificial Espada, created by Aizen. I cannot recall what was before."

"You didn't get me, didja?" Grimmjow said, "I- we, existed before that shinigami came along, didn't we? I know I was something before, and you must have been something before all this. Being and Espada isn't the beginning of your life, or memories, Ulquiorra, I thought you would know as much."

Silence greeted his words. Ulquiorra's mind was turning Grimmjow's words over and over, processing, analyzing every syllable. In the end, he decided it was a question worth answering.

"I was made to obey. There is nothing left for me in this world except Aizen-sama. He created me, and he can destroy me at a whim. I will serve his needs and purposes until that day comes, and when it does, I will continue to abide by his needs and wants."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed slightly. "So you're just gonna suck up to him all your life? You are the goddamned _Cuatro Espada_, and you're so gutless you can't even make a goal for yourself. Don't you want anything? Doesn't life mean anything at all to you? Are you just going to cower at his feet like a fucking dog until he goes and hacks you into nothingness?" it didn't matter that his voice could barely go over a whisper. The silence seemed to magnify the words, however quiet they were. "That is just so fucked up. You don't even want to remember, do you? Think that's a sin against what you are right now. You'll just be a fucking doll for the rest of your miserable life, having your memory erased whenever seen fit or doing crazy shit just because _Aizen-sama_ feels like it. I don't even want to call you an arrancar anymore; you just make me so damned sick."

He turned on Ulquiorra, his eyes hard. "It's your life, aren't you supposed to do something with it?"

For a moment, Ulquiorra sat still, frozen in chock at Grimmjow's outburst. Then, seemingly recovering, he rounded on the Sexta Espada.

"You don't understand, do you?" Ulquiorra said softly, as if the quiet muffled their voices as much as it amplified them. "My first priority will be Aizen-sama, and my second priority, and my third, and fourth. You can deny your existence, but that is all we are… dolls to a higher and crueler being. Pretend all you want, Grimmjow, but ultimately, you, like me, are Aizen-sama's plaything. He will manipulate you as he is me."

"… You are so full of shit. Can't even fight back." Grimmjow rolled over painfully, glaring hard. "I'll tell you who's the trash, Ulquiorra. That'd be you. Just think 'bout it."

The silence swelled between them again. Ulquiorra remained impassive, staring straight ahead and moving only to blink. His mouth was still set in a downward curve, gaze disapproving. With a sigh, Grimmjow curled up, wincing painfully as he felt some skin give way on his shoulder. Soon, the silence began to annoy him again. He decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind.

"What do you see in Aizen, anyways?"

Garnering no response, he sighed somewhat shallowly. Then, he started as Ulquiorra spoke.

"I see whatever he chooses me to see." despondent eyes were fixed on the ground as he answered.

Grimmjow snorted. "There you go, spouting that bullshit again. I just don't see what is so great about him."

Ulquiorra watched him carefully. "Don't you?" Grimmjow tried to sit up. Lying on the ground was beginning to feel very undignified. Ulquiorra watched him silently, unresponsive even when Grimmjow hissed in pain. Slowly, he managed to sit against the wall beside Ulquiorra.

"Dammit. Help me for a second, will ya?" he growled as his shoulder began to gush blood again, the red darkening already stained clothes. Ulquiorra blinked, then leaned across Grimmjow to check on the shoulder. Grimmjow snarled softly as cold fingers probed the wound, gently mopping up the blood. Suddenly, he sucked in his breath (adding to the agony and humiliation) as Ulquiorra shifted, baring the curve of his long, pale throat. Grimmjow bit his lip, willing those thought away, but to no avail. He couldn't' stand the attack his hormones were putting on his at the moment. Growling, he grabbed Ulquiorra's shoulder (more pain on his part) and swung the smaller arrancar around. He saw green eyes widen dramatically and felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the sight. Keeping a firm grip on the back of Ulquiorra's neck, he brushed his lips against the Cuatro Espada's before tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Ulquiorra's lips were so cold, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, he wondered why he hadn't tried this before. Ulquiorra tasted numbingly sour, yet strangely like nothing at all. Running his tongue along the bottom lip, he tangled his hand in the tousled dark hair, never slackening his grip. Not that it was very strong in the first place. Just when he really began to enjoy himself, he was aware of his companion's struggles. He ignored all this until he registered what Ulquiorra was saying.

The dark haired arrancar was making the most uncharacteristic whimpering sounds as he struggled to fit words in. "No… Stop, no more, no more… please…" Grimmjow could almost taste the fear and distress. At once, he released Ulquiorra, who leapt back, somewhat lacking the usual grace and agility. He fell back, panting hard. Eyes glazed over in fear, he raised a trembling hand and wiped at his mouth. For several minutes, he did nothing but sit on the floor and shiver. Then, he rose to his feet, avoiding Grimmjow's gaze.

After an awkward pause, he said, "We're leaving."

Grimmjow blinked. He was sure Ulquiorra would kill him. "Where to?"

"To get you healed."

"That woman again?" the Sexta Espada asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice. Ever since she had come to Hueco Mundo, their entire world seemed to have revolved around her. Heal this, fix that, do this, stay there… Grimmjow was beginning to suspect Aizen was coming to rely on her, or at least expect her to do things she wouldn't or couldn't.

Ulquiorra nodded jerkily. "Yes. Now get up."

When Grimmjow showed no signs of trying, Ulquiorra grabbed him again and slung him over his shoulder. Without further ado he started off for Orihime's cell on the fifth level.

-

_Crash_.

The door was smashed open, crashing into the wall rather unceremoniously. Ulquiorra heard the soft cry of shock that came from the prisoner. With slow and deliberate steps, he walked into the center of the room and dropped Grimmjow on the floor, who protested feebly.

"Heal him, woman." Ulquiorra said shortly. Orihime's eyes widened. Her caretaker seemed to be in a foul mood today, so she opted not to disobey.

After she had healed his completely incinerated arm, the deep gashes that marred his body proved to be far simpler in comparison. It took a minimal amount of time to heal Grimmjow, but by the end of it, Ulquiorra's patience had already run thin.

"Woman, I'm in a hurry."

She glanced fearfully up at him, stone grey eyes meeting his for a fraction of a second. "Y-yes. I'm trying…" she said faintly, still clearly afraid of him.

He watched for a little while more, then, "Kurosaki Ichigo is dead."

She barely reacted to the sound of his voice. The changes were subtle, but Ulquiorra' sharp eyes caught them all. Her face twitched briefly, eyebrows contracting as grief and anger flashed across her features. Balling her hands at her side, she bit her lip, forcing away tears that should have long since dried up. Ulquiorra's mouth curved downward a little less. Humans were so amusing, upset by a mere string of words. It was always easy for him to ruffle her, abusing her mentally rather than physically.

"It was as I told you. He came here with no hope of reaching you alive, let alone leave here. It seems he overestimated his own power, like the worthless trash he brought along with him. Even if you disagree with me, and even if you are not upset by the fact that they same here with the wrong measure of their strength, you should at least be angry with him for leading so many to their deaths, as strange as that notion may seem." He continued, watching her eyes brimming with tears that refused to fall. He knew, however, that as soon as he left, they would come cascading to the floor like a monsoon, never ending and harsh. He knew how this game worked, and he was playing his part.

"He- he should be fine now." She whispered, still avoiding his gaze. On the floor, Grimmjow groaned and sat up, still looking somewhat drained but fine in all other aspects.

"Damn, I'm stiff." He said, rolling his shoulders experimentally. His gaze lighted on Ulquiorra. "Are we leaving?"

Ulquiorra nodded. "Come."

-

Ichigo lay still, breathing in the scent of earth and blood. His blood, he remembered with a pang.

Disappointment. All he felt was disappointment. It was not disappointment at his lack of strength or his defeat, he was sure of that. He was not disappointed that he was losing his life, and he was not disappointed that he couldn't rescuer Orihime.

He was disappointed with Ulquiorra.

The thought squirmed uncomfortably in his mind, twisting under his skin with the deep pools of self-loathing that had already gathered there in the duration of their fight.

And then, he realized he was disappointed with Ulquiorra's actions.

It was painful, to watch the Espada walk away, hands thrust coolly in his pockets, back stiff and straight. It hurt even more to watch him walk away with Grimmjow this time, completely ignoring Ichigo. And then he remembered the terrible rage that had erupted in him, tearing at him, clawing at his insides. It writhed in its attempt to escape him, but he tamped it down, willing the guilty thoughts into the dark recesses of his mind, where it now was beside his Hollow. But all the while, it pushed at him, fighting to break free in any form he could produce. He had never realized it before, but this kind of ache was different than anything a zanpakuto could ever do to him, and would take far longer to recover from than any wound.

And yet, the only real reason he continued to chase after Ulquiorra was because he was disappointed. He wanted this arrancar to acknowledge him, to see him as something more than nothing. Ichigo wanted to kill himself for it, but he was almost wishing Ulquiorra would take the time to call him trash again.

He wanted to hear that voice, saying that goddamned word that Ichigo needed so badly.

Trash.

_Yeii!! Fluff from Grimmkitty._

_This chapter really didn't have much in it... just some lame character development. the Ichigo monologue at the end was so uber weak, too..._

_le sigh oh well..._

_REVIEW PLEASE_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter threee! Yes, i can upload fast, but that's only because track season has ended and I have run out of homework (it's not really that tough being a freshman)._

_Fluffy, random chappie with a bit of angst- the beginning of our angst in this story, i think!_

_Thank you so much to all who reviewed, and those who put me on alert. It nice to have even some attention to this fic, but it's not that popular. oh well _c:

_So how long do you think i should make it? I've had issues with overwriting before, where i wrote such a long fic that it lost plot and general interest. so some one tell me when i should stop._

_NOTE. VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!! does anyone need a beta? I'm dying to read something, so seriously, SOMEONE MAKE ME YOUR BETA. PLEAZZES!!_

_Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach._

Chapter 3

-

Grimmjow counted the deaths.

And then he couldn't count them anymore.

Everyone around him was dropping off, falling behind in the struggle to survive. One by one, Grimmjow watched them die and fade, falling away from the ranks of the arrancar. From Aizen.

He knew he would never see them again.

Count to ten… no, count from ten, down… count down… nine… eight… seven…down… dowwwnnnnn………………

_One._

It wasn't the first time his hands were coated in shinigami blood.

-

Green eyes snapped open, and Ulquiorra sat bolt upright. He gasped, only just realizing he had been holding his breath.

_Just a dream._

He raised a hand to his face, running his fingertips over the smooth surface if his skin. Glancing down, he confirmed that Grimmjow was still there. Blinking slowly, he curled up under his sheets, trying to ignore the Sexta Espada sleeping beside him. How the hell had he gotten himself into this situation? The only thing he was glad of was that he was still wearing his own clothes.

He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have let Grimmjow come with him. There were too many instances that he'd already lived through, and all of them were horribly familiar to this one, though a little less willing on his part.

_A sliver of bright light cut across the dark room, illuminating half a face. The eyes showed now surprise at the intrusion, but then again, they rarely showed any emotion at all._

_Wide smile in place, Ichimaru Gin peered into the darkness. His eyes were narrowed in an almost playful manner, but anyone who bothered to look harder noticed the way the outside corners curved downward, the eyebrows lifted gently so he almost looked sad. Almost like he pitied the one he spoke to. Pushing the door open further, he let the light completely reveal the Espada that stood inside. One hand was in his pocket, while the other rested on the surface of the desk beside him. His eyes pierced the renegade shinigami like no cero could, the searching gaze eating the sight alive._

"_Aizen-sama told me to come find you." He said, smirk stretching wider._

_Ulquiorra nodded, and put both hands in his pockets. Such calls were not unusual. "Thank you. I will be there shortly."_

_Gin's smile fell ever so slightly, his expression looking all the more miserable. "Sorry." He whispered quietly._

His hand fisted in the sheets, the dark nails the only thing that stood out against the white. His skin blended perfectly with the cloth.

"_Ulquiorra."_

_Aizen's voice echoed so coldly through the room. Ulquiorra allowed himself to wonder why it echoed like that, but then wiped his mind blank, ready to take orders from his creator._

"_Aizen-sama, you called for me?"_

_The lofty smirk changed subtly. It was a small movement, really, but the entire feel of that expression grew all the more feral and ardent. "Yes. There are certain services I require from you."_

"_Anything you wish…" Ulquiorra murmured, knowing that Aizen would catch every word._

_Suddenly, he was at Ulquiorra's side._

_The arrancar's heart didn't miss a single beat. He continued to stare ahead, still calm and collected. The only movement was that of his eyes, following his lord as Aizen circled around him, drawing closer. There was something in his eyes that Ulquiorra had never seen before, and he hated to admit that he was dimly aware of the fear it caused._

"_The other Espada have been told to stay away from here." Aizen said, watching carefully as his subordinate's stance became a little more rigid, the slow breaths quickening their pace faintly. Every meeting between them was comprised completely of finely tuned expressions and subtle exchanges of feelings and thoughts. "They will not interrupt us."_

_A hand reached up and gripped the smaller Espada's chin, tilting his head up so that he was looking into Aizen's eyes. Ulquiorra didn't know what to do. It was too close… too close for him to still be able to maintain his façade of calm._

Grimmjow made a small sound and stirred, his brow furrowing. Ulquiorra paused long enough to wonder what Grimmjow was thinking.

"_Aizen-sama…" he began slowly, his voice hitching slightly. "What are you doing?"_

"_That depends on you." The deep voice washed over him, sending shivers down his spine. Ulquiorra squirmed slightly, trying to back away, but the iron grip tightened and wrapped around his body, pulling him closer until he was pressed up against Aizen in a very compromising position, or so Ulquiorra thought._

"_A-Aizen-sama!" he gasped, his heart racing. "Please don't-"_

_But Aizen swung him around, forcing him backwards and into a wall. Aizen, gripping both of Ulquiorra's wrists in one fist, pulled the Espada's arms over his head, trapping it against the wall. Ulquiorra's eyes widened, but still he could not fight back, he would not struggle against the master for whom he would lay down his life._

"_Don't worry…" Aizen breathed, his breath ghosting over the angled jaw, "It'll get better, I promise." Then he was leaning forward, closer… closer… Ulquiorra's heart pounded louder and louder, filling up his entire world. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think, at least not about anything but what was about to happen-_

"Dammit." Ulquiorra flinched at the loud voice. "Wha time'sit?" Grimmjow asked, his words slurred as he sat up, still half asleep.

"Not as late as you'd like it, I'm sure." Ulquiorra replied wryly. There was no time in Hueco Mundo, only the night.

"Fuck…" Grimmjow mumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair. He swung himself out of bed, pulling on his sandals and Ulquiorra followed. He cast out for anything with reiatsu, noting that some of the woman's friends were still running amok within Las Noches. Then, he realized said woman was no longer in her own room, and Kurosaki Ichigo's reiatsu had once again returned to its normal state.

It was only on rare occasions that Ulquiorra said any of those funny words that Grimmjow used. Now was one of those occasions. "Shit." He stopped in the hallway. Grimmjow, not realizing the pause immediately, went a few meters ahead, turning at the sound. "Shit. Fuck. Fucking… Shit, shit, shit…"

Without hesitation, he sonido-ed towards the source of Ichigo's reiatsu, determined to bring the shinigami to his knees for the final time. He grew weary of the intrusion.

-

"Inoue." Ichigo's eyes softened when they fell on her. "Thank you."

She smiled, pushing her worry down to the dark recesses of her mind where all the terrible things hid. _Ulquiorra-san will be angry._ She thought, trying and failing to imagine the expression on the Espada. "I- I need to get back to my room, Ichigo." She said, dropping her smile when it hurt.

Ichigo blinked in confusion. "Wh-What? Wait, why would you do that? I'm here to rescue you; I can take you back to Soul Society. You don't need to go back, it's pointless!"

"Well…" She said, looking at the ground. "I- I promised."

"Promised…"

She felt terrible. It must sound so stupid, saying these stupid, stupid things. All she was doing was hurting people, really, even when she tried to make things right. "I- I promised Ulquiorra-s-san that if he left my door unlocked, I wouldn't try to run away."

"What?" Ichigo's eyes widened in disbelief. "So you agreed that if he unlocked your door, you'd still stay in your room like it was locked anyways? And you think you need to keep this promise?"

She shook her head frantically. "N-no, I could go around Las-" Her words were cut off abruptly.

"Woman."

Orihime stiffened. Slowly, fearfully, she turned her head to see Ulquiorra step out from a Garganta.

"Woman, what do you think you are doing?" he asked, walked towards them.

"I… I…" she squeaked, her eyes wide with fear.

Ulquiorra's eyes darkened with something akin to disapproval. Of course he would only take emotions by halves, never the entire thing. "Woman, answer me."

"W-wait…" she said. She wanted to say something, and she knew what that something was, but her mouth had frozen, refusing to work on its own. Her lips trembled with the effort, but before she could continue, Ichigo stepped forward. Ulquiorra only looked a little angrier.

"Your fight is with me, Ulquiorra." Ichigo said, glaring.

Ulquiorra closed his eyes in exasperation. "Shinigami, we have gone through this. This is most definitely not your fight, so leave while you still can."

"Che." Ichigo pulled out Zangetsu. "I was considering not letting you finish there. You say too many useless things. Inoue," he said, turning to look at Orihime. "Go stand somewhere safe."

Orihime blinked. "A-Alright." _I think I'll just… go… back to my… room…_

Ulquiorra echoed her thoughts. "Return to your quarters. I will deal with you later."

"Don't you dare touch her. Don't you even talk to her." Ichigo crouched, dark reiatsu swirling around him. "Bankai."

"Trash…" Ulquiorra said, and Ichigo's heart leapt at the word. He tried to quell his feelings, but that same writhing, burning desire for Ulquiorra's acknowledgement refused to be denied.

The dark blur sped towards him, but Ulquiorra saw it as if it was in slow motion. He leaned to the right, watching Ichigo fly by before turning around fully to face him. His eyes were impassive and cold; he hated useless bloodshed like this. He moved forward and appeared at Ichigo's side, arm swinging at the orange head-

An arm came up and blocked his, their limbs meeting with a sharp report. Ulquiorra paused, pushing his arm downward painstakingly slowly. The bones and joints in Ichigo's arm creaked as he fought against his enemy, hand clenched tightly in a fist.

**You won't do it alone, King.**

Ichigo's eyes widened. Gritting his teeth, he leapt back, away from Ulquiorra.

**I know your desires…**

"Shit…" he muttered under his breath as he turned inward, trying to suppress his Hollow. "Go away, not now."

**It has to be now!** The hollow laughed, yellow eyes watching with feral cunning. **That clown Espada is going to beat you again unless you use me.**

"You think I'm afraid of death?" Ichigo retorted, eyes wide.

The Hollow continued to laugh, the sound grating harshly against the air. **No. You're afraid of what he'll say, aren't cha?**

Brown eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

He found the Hollow's face inches from his own, leering at him. **You want him, don't you?**

Ichigo gasped at the words. "W-what are you talking about?"

**Don't play dumb. **The altered image of himself snorted. **I know how you feel whenever you see him. I know how you want to hear him say 'trash' again, over and over. You don't realize just how fucked up that is, don't you? You must like it rough… **It licked its lips, a pensive look plastered on its face. Then, grinning at Ichigo's poorly composed mask of what he hoped to be confusion, it added: **What? Don't look at me like that, it's not like I'm completely unaware of your lust.**

"Shut up."

**Come on. You need me. Besides, once I beat him, you'll be able to enjoy him all you want. Or maybe,** the Hollow leered, a tongue sliding over white lips, **I'll just enjoy him myself.**

"Shit, no, no, NO STOP!" Ichigo shouted as the Hollow pushed outward, forcibly taking over the shinigami's body. Slowly, the image faded in his mind as it took control, pushing Ichigo farther and farther down into darkness.

"SHIT!" Ichigo screamed, spinning around and trying to find where it had gone. "FUCK!"

Suddenly, a voice echoed around him.

**Too late, King. **He could hear the amusement in the mocking words. **But don't worry. You'll enjoy this, I'm sure.**

**We'll both enjoy this.**

Ichigo thought being wrong had never felt worse.

_A:N_

_Not much of a cliffhanger, I think... not that strong a chapter, either. makes me sad, I'm having mini writer's blocks everywhere. And plot bunnies that are screaming at me to write a oneshot. If the beginning part with Grimmjow is kinda confusing, sorry, i was really debating whether i should make that Grimmjow's dream, or make Ulquiorra kinda... think he was Grimmjow in the dream or something. I dunno._

_Explanations!!_

_Um, and no, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow didn't get too naughty in bed, but they were in bed with each other. i was a lame author and glossed over how it happened, but just imagine a scene in which Grimmjow followed Ulquiorra into his room and annoyed the shit out of our poor little emo Espada, and somehow managed to get in bed with Ulquiorra. Fill in the gaps, please._

_Please review! it makes my brain happy and plot bunny free! (i think)._


	4. Chapter 4

_Ok! Here be the fourth chapter of our thing fic! Thank you to the reviewers, i really appreciate everything!_

_Yes, i was the epitome of lazy when i cut off most of the GrimmUlqui moments last chapter, so sorry to those who were disappointed, SO! To make it up to you awesomesauce readers, i wrote an extra long chapter! with a bit of yaoi later, but im not very good at this kind of crap. :_

_Notes:_

_Flashbacks n such are in italics._

_Towards the middle/beginning of the fic, there is a point where present time is interwritten (is this even a word) with a memory. I purposefully cut sentences off so that they'd fit with the past/present. so basically, a flashback will be read continuously from non italics to italics. incorporate about two words from the previous past/present paragraph to the next._

_Example:_

And he

_was writing_

_Simple enough? no? -le sigh- sorry if it confuses anyone, i didnt do a very good job._

_Disclaimer: I don't own nething._

Chapter Four

-

Frozen, time was

_Frozen, his limbs refusing to move. Throat constricting, he gasped as Aizen's tongue traced his jaw. It left a streak of cold behind on his skin, a thin line of nothing. Ulquiorra suppressed a shudder._

His reiatsu climbed ever higher and higher, a swirling mass of energy that seemed to engulf the world. It was the same. That same as when he had first met the shinigami, in that godforsaken place that humans lived in. The same as his own. Ulquiorra's eyes tracked the smudge of solid form in the cloud of dust, watching carefully and quietly.

He didn't have to wait for long as a blur shot out of the dust, streaks trailing behind as debris and sand became dislodged from his coat. Ulquiorra raised an arm and stopped the hand aimed for his chest and-

His eyes widened as pale fingers (when did they change color?) slid past his and grabbed his throat, squeezing painfully tight. A face was thrust inches from his own, yellow eyes shining with glee. Those eyes… the shinigami's face looked as though it had been completely drained of all color, but not just his face. It was as if his entire being, his entire existence had been bleached white save for the eyes. Yellow pupils glinted dully in the night, the whites darkened to black. A wide grin, one to rival Grimmjow's, had spread across that face, pink tongue snaking out from under the teeth. The hand traced up to his chin-

And Ulquiorra's memory crashed. It fell on him like several tons of stone, crumbling as it met his skin until the pieces were falling around him, trapping him in a wave of thoughts and pictures that threatened to suffocate him. He choked back a gasp, jerking his head back and away from the Hollow thing before him. The pale hand stayed, tightening on his jaw. Just like-

_Aizen grabbed his chin again, holding his face still. The usually smirking mouth was wrapped around his own, eating his face in some cruel imitation of human _love_. Ulquiorra closed his eyes, willing the fear and disgust away. He tried his very best to close his mouth, but Aizen's control over him was complete, and the fact that he was highly disinclined to do this held no weight on the matter. He thrashed against the arms that held him, but the marble seemed to rise up behind him, trapping him tightly in a cage of stone and flesh. He tried to scream._

No sound came out. The Hollow's hand clamped around his mouth and forced his head back, down towards the ground. Ulquiorra, still limp with shock, felt his spine bend with the pressure and before he could right himself again, he was flat on his back, the unnatural weight pressing down in his body all too familiar in this position. He raised a hand and grabbed the Hollow's face, pushing back with as much strength he could muster at the moment. The thing laughed; it knew Ulquiorra had no chance of pushing him off in his current position. It was pointless

_To defy Aizen's words, Ulquiorra had always known that, but it was only know that he understood why it was so difficult. He had seen so many brothers born with the power of those hands, and he himself had been created like that, but now, these same hands were pinning him down, pressing him painfully into the hard floor. He allowed no sound to escape his lips, however, no sound to_

Break this silence that was pressing on his ears.

A sharp pain

_Lanced its way up his neck. Aizen bit down hard into Ulquiorra's colorless skin, the sheer force of his reiatsu breaking through. Dark blood welled to the surface, thick and sticky, even in the thin arteries and veins that ran just under the smooth white. Something cold and warm swept across the cut. A tongue_

Ran across his bottom lip, then forced its way in, exploring every feature of the inside of his mouth, something people usually don't see. The Hollow's hand snaked up under his jacket, fingers tracing a path up the small of his back, leaving bleeding welts in their wake. He arched his back away

_From Aizen. He wanted to get away from this place, he needed to escape, he needed_

This to stop. He was choking on his memories, couldn't breath, couldn't think, couldn't figure out

_Why this had happened. Why? What was happening, what had he done wrong so that Aizen would-_

_Fingers toyed with the high collar at his throat. Aizen found the zipper and pulled the jacket open, jerking it forcefully off Ulquiorra's shoulders_

Were pinned against the sand, the crystal grains chafing at his skin. The Hollow's hand gripped his hair, tugging forcefully as a moan escaped its lips. Ulquiorra

_Clenched his eyes shut, willing this to end sooner, hoping beyond hope that this was not happening, it hurt, it hurt so badly_

As the Hollow rocked its hips faster, grinding mercilessly against his somewhat agitated victim. Ulquiorra tried to pull himself away, pull away from this place he was trapped in, somewhere between the past and the present, all the same memory. He

_Tried to speak, he tried to stop Aizen, but there was no way for the inferior to defy the god. His heart twisted as despair laced with rage welled up inside him, mixing with the pain_

In his head was building, blinding him. If only he could think straight, if only he could see, or hear, or know what was happening. No, he knew exactly what was happening. Whatever the Hollow thing was doing, it left very little to imagination. The pressure on top of him grew heavier, the friction between their bodies cutting in like broken glass

_Littered the floor as something smashed next to Ulquiorra's head. Whatever it was, it was probably filled with water. But it took him a moment to realize the fluid licking at the back of his neck and shoulders was not water, but blood. His blood, he realized_

What was going on.

What was going on?

_What? _How _Is _Did this _Happening? _Happen? -Ing? _Can't _Stop _This _Pain _Just _Hurts

_End…_

His eyes flew open. Fear at a paramount within him, he raised his hand again, pointing it at the Hollow's head. It jerked back as green reiatsu gathered on Ulquiorra's fingertips, leaping out of the way. Ulquiorra wrenched himself to his feet, swaying slightly. But he quickly regained his balance and sped towards the Hollow, who, in turn, seemed shocked by the sudden change of events. He heard a satisfying crack as his foot connected with its side, ribs cracking and breaking. The Hollow's scream was echoed in his mind, emotions that writhed underneath never reaching the surface. He followed the body's progress through the air and drove his arm down, down towards the one that was not Kurosaki Ichigo.

Blood spattered his face as his hand went in, ripping through flesh and bone and air until it met sand. The Hollow dropped to the ground, Ulquiorra kneeling beside him, his arm elbow deep in its abdomen. Blood spurted from its mouth as it retched convulsively. Ulquiorra didn't even flinch as the fluid, diluted with saliva, slapped across one cheek, falling in watery drops to the ground. It never ceased to repulse him that human blood was so thin and colored.

He gave his arm a vicious twist before pulling it free with a squelch and straightening up, his once again glassy eyes looking down at the Hollow, who laughed weakly as the blood drained from his body.

**It was good while it lasted, huh?** More blood flowed down either side of the still grinning mouth. **I really didn't think you would let me follow through with rape, though, but for a minute there, I thought I **_**could've**_** gotten away with it.**

Ulquiorra chose not to respond.

**What the hell happened? **The Hollow taunted. **You kinda seized up after I grabbed you, it wasn't much fun.**

Still now response. Ulquiorra continued to stare down, emotions and memories finally catching up to him. He dropped to his knees with a gasp, shoulders slumping in exhaustion. He was infuriated with himself for showing any signs of fatigue after something that should have taken him a minimal amount of energy.

A snicker. **Damn, you're pretty tired yourself, aren't cha? **The mocking ring was muffled by the blood gurgling back in the throat. **We can do it again, sometime, huh? For future reference, I like it rough. And from what I saw, I'm pretty sure you do, too.**

A laugh and then silence. The reiatsu, already lower than it had been from the beginning, plummeted back to an acceptable, if not depleted, shinigami level.

Ulquiorra did not want to know what Ichigo Kurosaki was thinking, much less what he wanted to say.

-

"You looked pretty fucked up."

Ulquiorra had no sooner stepped into his room than those crude words assaulted his overtaxed senses. He blinked twice, his gaze falling on the blue-eyed Espada who was leaning casually against his desk. It was obvious he had been waiting.

"What do you want?" Ulquiorra asked. He did not want to deal with anything at the moment; he just wanted to forget.

"Waiting for you, bastard." Grimmjow snorted, his eyes never leaving Ulquiorra's. Unusual. Grimmjow was not one to keep eye contact. "You took off without telling me where, and now you come home looking like someone tried to screw your brains out."

Ulquiorra didn't answer. Instead, he turned away from the intruder and went into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he stuck his head under until his hair was thoroughly soaked and his ears filled with water. Straightening up, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the black strands clump together. Then, he exited to his room.

Grimmjow was still there, the stubborn bastard. Ulquiorra ignored him and dropped on his bed, turning his head to the side a little. He knew his mask was a part of him only death could change (though he was not sure on that), but it annoyed him to no end when he had to lie down. The horn jutting from the smooth helmet like shape curved outwards and then back, making it impossible for him to sleep on anything but his right side. He did not think much of lying facedown, suffocating himself.

"Damn, what the hell happened to you?" Grimmjow demanded, his form suddenly looming over the Cuatro Espada. "You come in like you just slept with Gin or something, drown your face and then _flop_ on the bed. What. The. Fuck. Ulquiorra, you don't _flop_. You aren't supposed to _flop_."

"Grimmjow, not now."

"And you didn't call me trash, either. Seriously, I think you-"

A pale hand shot up and grabbed his throat. Blue eyes widened and Grimmjow froze, staring down the bridge of his nose at the green eyes that were currently glaring murder at him. He swallowed around the crushing grip on his neck.

"Alright." He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, so you don't want to talk. Fine. Fine, I'll go."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes as if he were sighing. He never sighed if he could help it. His hand dropped back to his side and Grimmjow stepped back, slightly perturbed. He didn't know Ulquiorra extremely well, but he knew enough to know something was wrong. Something was very horribly wrong. He moved towards the doorway, but stopped as Ulquiorra spoke.

"Don't." the voice was hoarse.

"What?"

"Don't say anything."

Grimmjow didn't know if Ulquiorra was shitting him or not. He whipped around, his eyes wary. "What?"

Ulquiorra opened an eye. "Are you that dense? Just keep your mouth shut."

Slowly, Grimmjow nodded, still not breaking eye contact. He opened his mouth as if he was going to talk back, but something in Ulquiorra's face stopped him and he left, slamming the door closed behind him. Ulquiorra winced at the sound.

Typical.

He could not pretend he was not disturbed by the recent events. In fact, to say that he was just disturbed would be the understatement of the millennia. He wasn't just disturbed, he was terrified, he was angry, and mostly he just hurt. Something in his stomach twisted as he remembered the lightless room, his vision blocked by a mass of brown hair, and the only sound he heard was the sound of skin on skin. He detested it. He did not want to believe Aizen was still the same powerful creator who would eventually save them, and he didn't. He didn't trust his lord Aizen-sama anymore. And yet, every time any scene remotely similar played out, it would instantly melt into his memories until he didn't know where he was or when it was.

Slowly, he got to his feet and pulled down the zipper of his jacket. Pushing the folds away, he slipped it off his shoulders and threw it over a chair. Walking into the bathroom again, he twisted around to look at the oozing cuts on his back. There were two sets of parallel gouge marks, some thinner and some fainter while most where simply deep red welts marring his pale skin. He could see where the almost straight lines were interrupted by the arch of his spine or ribs. He touched them, troubled, and saw the way they slid over previous scars like roads on a map.

_With trembling hands, he pulled his jacket off again, checking the cuts that had just healed into faint white scars, barely contrasting with his already pale skin. He ran his fingers over a long one that wrapped around his ribs, ending abruptly at his stomach. The other smaller, far more insignificant wounds had already healed, but the memory was far from gone. Whenever he delved into his mind for those recollections, his throat knotted painfully, the same fear and betrayal sinking into him again. His hands clenched; he hated to see them tremble._

_Suddenly, someone knocked and entered. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on quickly, but not hastily. He never hurried. Zipping it all the way up to his throat, he stared as Ichimaru came in again. Ulquiorra noticed the narrowed eyes linger on the scars that marred his abdomen, only noticeable in the poor lighting. The shinigami hesitated, his face once again mocking yet regretful. Dread crept up and grabbed Ulquiorra from behind, sending his heart racing again._

"_Aizen-sama is calling for you." Gin said softly. He was still grinning._

_Ulquiorra swallowed his fear and nodded, trying his best to forget the pain of their last encounter._

The light scars crisscrossed across his body. The original cuts were too shallow to leave a permanent scar, and the older ones had already faded and disappeared, but Aizen had not limited Ulquiorra to a one-time 'use'. He had exploited his power and control many times over until Ulquiorra thought he would die from it all. He could remember what Aizen always said at the end of every session.

"_You've always been my favorite…"_

His favorite, his favorite… it was disgusting! Ulquiorra could feel his self-control breaking down. He wanted to show emotion, he wanted to scream and cry and kill things, burn them, slash it, incinerate it with his cero. He wanted to kill him, he wanted Aizen to die, he wanted to kill the one who betrayed his loyalty-

His loyalty! It was his unwavering loyalty that had gotten himself into this situation, and it would only dig him deeper. Suddenly, he wanted to kill _himself_ for thinking these thoughts. He had told himself so many times that he would serve his Aizen-sama with everything he had, and this constituted as everything he had. The dark mouth was set in its usual scowl. Absently, he rubbed his upper lip, wondering for the first time in his Espada life why it was black against his pale skin. His bottom lip remained in sync with the rest of his body, but not his upper lip. Why was it determined to undermine the normal?

Suddenly, his exhaustion caught up with him, breaking through his thoughts. Walking back into the room, he slid under his sheets (he didn't like blankets; they muffled his senses) and rolled onto his right side.

Sleep did not come as easily as expected.

-

He woke up like he had been slapped in the face.

Dragging himself out of bed, he got a clean uniform and pulled on the shirt, zipping it over the scars again. He straightened his hakama and finger-combed his hair into its normal position before putting his hands into his pockets and starting for the door. Grimmjow was outside, he realized. A small emotion shifted inside of him as he discovered this, but he ignored it and proceeded to push open the door.

"You still look like shit."

Ulquiorra had expected something like this and was not the least surprised. He turned abruptly to the right and started up the hallway, hearing Grimmjow follow him.

"What the fuck happened to you?" came the predictable question. When Ulquiorra didn't answer, the fool pressed for answers. "I'm serious. What happened?"

"It is none of your concern." Ulquiorra said, his voice icy.

Grimmjow's breath came out in a _whoosh_. "What the fuck?! What the fuck, Ulquiorra?! You don't realize that, for the first time in my goddamned life I am actually asking a question as to someone else's well being? Could you at least answer with something a little unexpected? I mean, I asked an unexpected question, answer with something unexpected! Better yet, answer the question correctly, like any normal soul would! Hey! I'm talking to you, you emo bastard!"

He strode on after Ulquiorra, grinding his teeth furiously. So this was what it felt like to be worried. If this was what it was, he wasn't too keen on trying it again. Ulquiorra ignored him, but there was no denying he looked 'like shit', as Grimmjow put it. His normally white skin had a grey tinge to it, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. His veins stood out stark against his discolored skin, a network of bruise blue and reddish purple spreading across his body. His mouth, if possible, was set in a sharper curve than usual, and the contrast between his black lip and his skin was far more pronounced than usual. He had never looked worse.

But it mattered very little. Ulquiorra simply squashed his emotions down to the very bottom of his heart, saving them for a more appropriate time. Which was to say he would leave them until he had to attend to them.

Suddenly, Grimmjow's hand closed on his arm in a vice-like grip. He turned his head a little to look back at the Sixth, his expression condescending. He watched something tauten in Grimmjow's face, and proceeded to brush the hand off.

"Wait." Grimmjow said. His eyes were still fixed steadily on the green ones. "Tell me. What happened. Please."

Ulquiorra did not understand. He did not understand why Grimmjow was doing this, or why he suddenly felt inclined to answer, to scream every thought that was currently threatening to implode his head. He wanted to say something, tell anyone, and then end this hell. He opened his mouth.

"Take your hand off me or I'll cut it off."

There. That could have been the singly most stupid thing he would do in his life. With a steady gaze, he shrugged Grimmjow's arm off and set off again at a brisk place. He didn't know where he was going; he didn't need to go anywhere. He just wanted to get away from here, this place where all these unfamiliar feelings were creeping up his consciousness again.

He walked away, leaving Grimmjow to simply stare in irritation and frustration. Grimmjow watched the rigid form get farther and farther away, and he couldn't help the disappointment that welled up his throat in a bitter wave. When he couldn't see Ulquiorra anymore, he turned and started off in the opposite direction.

-

Ulquiorra pushed open the door, and it glided smoothly inward on oiled hinges. He stepped in and flicked on the horrible fluorescent lights. Usually, he left them off, but he didn't have the energy to look very hard today.

The intense glow was accompanied by a soft buzz, illuminating the figure lying on the bed. Ulquiorra advanced slowly on the prisoner, his steps slow and deliberate. He continued until he stood directly at the bedside, staring coldly down at the boy below. His face was turned away from the Espada, facing the wall, but it was apparent he was awake.

"Get away from me."

Ulquiorra disregarded this. "Why?" he asked slowly.

Brown eyes turned on him, the spark all but gone. "I didn't."

"Didn't." it was not a question.

"I didn't do anything. I hope you know that." Kurosaki Ichigo almost pleaded.

Green eyes blinked down at him.

Ichigo's eyes widened slightly. "I-I'm not kidding. My Hollow, I can't always control it, it just does that-"

"Do you take me for a fool, trash?" Ulquiorra interrupted.

"What?" Ichigo hadn't even heard what he had said, he just heard the word 'trash'.

"I do believe your Hollow can speak a language I understand, correct?"

"Wait, but-"

"Silence." It was not a request, it was an order. "I do believe your Hollow can talk, am I correct?"

Ichigo nodded, his body numb.

"Think about what he said, shinigami. I heard everything. Think about it, then eliminate your feelings. They will do you no good." Ulquiorra's eyes shifted away from Ichigo's, and he strode out the door, returning with Zangetsu. Throwing it at the shinigami in a fluid motion, he said, "Catch."

Ichigo scrambled to do so. His eyes were wary as he watched the Espada approach.

"Kill me, trash."

Nothing registered but the word 'trash'. When Ulquiorra saw that the prisoner did not comprehend, he repeated himself.

"Kill me, shinigami."

This time, Ichigo heard quite clearly. Eyes widening, he nearly dropped his zanpakuto in shock as he stared up at Ulquiorra. "What?"

"Kill me. I am unarmed. You have your zanpakuto. Even for trash like you, this should be fairly simple."

Once again, the word trash echoed in his mind, but he was paying far too much attention to forget the rest of the sentence.

"Kill me, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo's vision swam before his eyes, his heart pounding wildly as he tried to raise his sword. This was his chance to escape and save Inoue, but Zangetsu felt like lead in his hands as he struggled to raise his arms. He must be weaker than he thought.

And as he looked up into Ulquiorra's eyes, his heart twisted with pain. Emotions overrode logical thinking, and suddenly, he felt his limbs growing weaker and weaker. Trembling, he tried again, trying to raise his sword above waist height. He couldn't even lift it past his knees. It was then that he realized he was not weak at all. At least not physically. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. But he couldn't. He couldn't destroy the one thing that made him feel this way, the one thing he couldn't – and shouldn't- have. Before he knew what he was doing, he fell to his knees, zanpakuto dropping with a crash to the ground.

"I can't." the words came out in a gasp.

Ulquiorra didn't even blink. "Trash." He said, kneeling down before the wavering shinigami until his eyes were level with Ichigo's. "You like hearing that, don't you?"

Ichigo's head came up sharply, eyes wide. How did this arrancar know everything? For the record, the Hollow hadn't said _this_ much.

"Yes." There was cold amusement in the word. "You like to hear me call you… trash." It was the stupidest thing about this shinigami, Ulquiorra thought. The singly stupidest thing he had ever seen, and the only stupid thing above Nnoitra, who was pretty stupid.

He rose to his feet. He felt better after this small session of mental torture. It was not his best work, but it was something. "Forget me, shinigami. Go back to Soul Society and live. You have your entire life and death ahead. Do not waste it on something hopeless." He turned to leave. "If you have lived as long as I have, and realized there was still so much longer you'd have to exist with your mistakes, you would not be here. Forget about me. Forget your feelings. They will only come back to destroy you."

Ichigo couldn't move. He stared after the retreating form, his lips slightly parted in shock, eyes still blank and uncomprehending. Ulquiorra thought the shinigami had never looked more pathetic, but that shallow sense of guilt boiled just beneath the surface. Wasn't he the same? Didn't he have the same mindset, confused and deprived at the same time? Who was he to call someone pathetic when he was far more so than anyone would ever be?

Ulquiorra closed the door quietly.

-

It was just a touch.

That was what Grimmjow kept telling himself, but just a touch did not quite sum up to a reason for this small explosion that had just bombed his mind into nothingness.

But it was just a touch. No explosion, serious.

… Okay, he lied.

But he passed so many arrancar in the halls, brushing by just as he had just done, but did _they_ ever set off this domino effect? No. But even as he watched the horned mask pass by his face, he nudged his elbow out a little farther and jabbed Ulquiorra in the ribs, apparently a little harder than he thought. The Cuatro Espada whirled around, expression blank, pinning Grimmjow to the wall with his eyes like a butterfly on cork display.

Not that he regretted anything now.

But as he thought about it, it seemed too perfect, too perfectly staged for this to be happening right now. Maybe being a persistent fangirl –ahem- fanboy worked out sometimes. Hell, it sure worked now. But what are the chances that an empty room was just to Grimmjow's left and Ulquiorra close to his right? Pretty slim, he thought.

Before said angry Espada could punch a couple (nice and neat) holes in Grimmjow, he had grabbed Ulquiorra and dashed into the door, kicking it open like any other.

Thank God (not Aizen; he didn't care what Ulquiorra said) it was empty.

Nor did it look like it was used. Didn't matter.

He grabbed both shoulders and pushed Ulquiorra into the wall. With a threatening glare, he said, "Okay, emo bitch. You're done with whatever crap you were doing, now talk."

Not a peep.

"Hurry up, I've been waiting days for this." It didn't really matter that days hadn't passed yet.

Still no response.

"You fuckingpieceofshit, are you going to talk or not?!"

Infuriating little prick must have duct taped his mouth.

Suddenly, pale hands grabbed his, pushing them off not so gently. Grimmjow's eyes widened as Ulquiorra threw him backward, somehow still maintaining his grip all the time. His back hit the ground, and within moments, Ulquiorra was on top of him. Grimmjow couldn't complain, but it felt somewhat wrong all the same.

"What the hell do you want, Sexta?" Ulquiorra's face was maddeningly close, his slit pupils dilated in the dark. Grimmjow didn't know they did that.

"What do _you_ want, Ulquiorra?" he gritted back, afraid of breathing on that face in case he lost a lung for it.

Ulquiorra's eyes changed. But definitely not happy.

"All right." Grimmjow continued, allowing more air this time. "So you don't want to talk. That's fine…" his breath ghosted over Ulquiorra's ear. Quite suddenly, he arched his back, pushing all his weight on one shoulder. He flipped over, rolling Ulquiorra to the bottom with a muffled thud. Grimmjow allotted a moment's breath to get over the shock, then leaned yet closer.

"But I'd like to know…" he breathed, his eyes heavily lidded, "What did Aizen do to fuck you up so bad you can't even let someone screw you over?"

Ulquiorra froze, wiping his face completely blank. His heart thudded in his chest; a fact that didn't go unnoticed. Grimmjow laughed softly.

"Don't play dumb." He said, toying with a few strands of hair, "I'm not as stupid as you think."

There was a silence, followed by a gasp as Ulquiorra let go of the breath he had been holding. No wonder he was so quiet.

"Grimmjow, _what do you want?_" he hissed again.

Grimmjow's eyes were mere spots of blue in the dark. "What do _you_ want, Ulquiorra?" he asked, his voice dropping several octaves.

Ulquiorra's breath quickened, but it was not panic in his eyes this time. Grimmjow paused, then lunged forward, sliding a hand under the bone mask and around the thin neck. Crushing their lips together, he teased Ulquiorra's lips apart with his tongue and proceeded to explore every aspect of the Cuatro Espada's mouth. Damn it was a small mouth, though. He felt a hand wrapping around his waist, the other tangling messily in his hair. Ulquiorra's back arched, and he moaned past the kiss. Grimmjow's heart pounded harder, the sound triggering an explosion of reactions in his mind. Pushing his body tight against the one beneath him, he pulled away from the kiss and began to trail his lips down the angular jaw and throat, pausing only to bite at the cold skin. Wrapping his mouth around a sharp collarbone, he stopped abruptly at the edge of the Hollow hole, waiting and breathing, anticipating the next move. His tongue flitted in and out, tracing the ravaged edges. Ulquiorra shuddered, suppressing another moan as Grimmjow worked his way inward, savoring the taste of blood and sweat on the Cuatro Espada's skin.

Grimmjow struggled with the zipper of Ulquiorra's jacket and, upon finding it, discarded it into the corner. The hand at his hip fisted in his own clothes, and Grimmjow complied, shrugging off his ragged shirt as well. Without warning, Ulquiorra jerked the hand currently tangled in his hair, pulling Grimmjow down until their lips met again in a heated struggle for dominance. Their movements grew increasingly frantic and forceful, bodies writhing fluidly against each other in a raging battle of lust and passion. Dimly, Grimmjow was aware of the hesitancy in Ulquiorra's movements, the slight tremble as he responded to his subconscious mind. Sharp teeth bit into Grimmjow's lip and salty blood washing over their tongues, now entwined loosely yet vigorously enough to hurt.

At length, Ulquiorra head fell back, pulling his lips away from Grimmjow's. They lay still for a moment, silent except for the harsh panting that filled the air. Grimmjow's face was still close enough to Ulquiorra's so that their breaths mingled, a passionate moment that neither wanted to break.

"I'd still like to know," Grimmjow panted, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, "Exactly what Aizen did to you."

Ulquiorra stared up at him, his eyes flitting slowly over Grimmjow's lips, his nose, the few strands that fell casually over his eyes. His expression was blank, neutral.

Grimmjow hadn't been expecting an answer anyway. He realized that he didn't need one anymore. With a small grunt of acceptance, he closed the distance between them again.

This time, the initial adrenaline had already work off, and his heart was beating far slower than he was a thirty seconds ago. He felt Ulquiorra's bony hand slide smoothly up his spine, running over his ribs. Grimmjow leaned into the touch, trembling with the effort of maintaining his self-control. The smaller arrancar snuck his tongue in between Grimmjow's teeth and proceeded to force his jaws apart. Their masks scraped together as he tilted his head, never breaking the kiss. Then, Ulquiorra deftly slipped his fingers into Grimmjow's Hollow hole, the touch sending shivers up his back. Grimmjow's restraints shattered, and he grabbed Ulquiorra's head, kissing him so hard that he drew blood, the metallic liquid flowing out the corner of his mouth and to the floor. He felt the body beneath him shudder as they scraped over the rough ground, dampening it with sweat and blood.

Slowly, Grimmjow let his hands slide down Ulquiorra's lithe body stopping just at the edge of his hakama. He hooked his fingers under the fabric and tried to pull the obstructing article of clothing off, but at that moment, Ulquiorra broke contact, grabbing Grimmjow's wrists in a firm grip.

"Not now." He whispered, pulling the hands away from his hakama.

Grimmjow made a small noise of complaint but Ulquiorra pushed him off and got to his feet. Retrieving his jacket, he pulled it back on and dusted himself off, running a hand through his hair to flatten it out. Grimmjow sat up.

"Where're you going?" he asked, his brain still on overdrive from recent activities.

"It has been nice, Sexta," Ulquiorra said dryly, pausing in the doorway, "But I think the situation may get out of hand if I allow it to continue."

"Wha-" Grimmjow started, but Ulquiorra departed, disappearing from view.

"Che." He growled, finding his own clothes and putting them on. He looked out into the hall, trying to figure out which way the stupid emo prick had gone, but Ulquiorra had all but vanished.

As Ulquiorra started down the corridor, he noted that his hands were still shaking. Clenching them, he let himself fall against the wall, leaning his head back as much as he could with his mask to consider. He closed his eyes, willing the memories away, hoping that the blinding white would simply fade.

Wiping his face clear of expression, he turned away and began to walk toward Kurosaki Ichigo's room again.

Suddenly, a set of footsteps came toward him, and the grinning face of Ichimaru Gin loomed out of the darkness. Ulquiorra stopped, his heart dropping.

"Aizen-sama wants you." Gin said, his voice full of the usual guilt that accompanied those words.

_A:N_

_How was it? Not too lame, i hope... This is the first time i've written something like this._

_I was reasonably proud of this chapter up until the end. the last bit was rushed and lame, i didn't know what to do to transition. yes, yes, i know, one bit of yaoi/(not really) sex and more yaoi/sex immediately after. Sorry about the sloppiness._

_REVIEW -it's even in caps._


	5. Chapter 5

_Ok, I updated! Really sorry for the long wait, but you know, end of the year, i hate SAT's and finals... all that stuff. I mean, what is the justice in a freshman taking a junior SAT? None._

_I'll stop whining now, it's not your problem._

_Now about this chapter. Another fairly lengthy one, but not too much. I'm terrible at fight scenes, so it came out like crap. Important chapter, though! Must read or you won't get next chapter at all._

_Any spelling/grammar mistakes are purely your imagination. :_

_Disclaimer: Do not own._

Chapter 5

-

He was made to obey.

He lived to obey.

He died to obey.

He would disappear to obey.

He obeyed.

Green eyes betrayed his fear as they roved over Gin's expression, taking in every detail, the simple picture recalling nightmares from his memories. How naïve of him to think that Aizen would stop, that Aizen would simply let go. He was becoming everything he despised.

He nodded, expression mercifully empty. "I… will come." Swallowing, then, "Thank you for…" his voice trailed off almost delicately.

A slight straightening of the mouth from Gin. "Sorry."

-

"Tch." Grimmjow ran his hand through his hair, looking around in disgust. Little bastard could hide himself damn well when he wanted to. And it didn't help that there was so much crap reiatsu around that it was impossible to pick out any individual, let alone one who didn't want to be found.

Well, shit.

Grimmjow punched the wall, leaving a good-sized crater behind. He was an idiot. He was and idiot for believing- _hoping-_ that the situation would work out. Maybe it was all those nights that he spent, planning, imagining how he would do it. And once he did, what he would do. Maybe it was just all that preparation, the over thinking process destroyed any real possibility of success.

Damn was he stupid to even chase after Ulquiorra.

If he could have loved a _different_ arrancar, maybe it would have been easier. But no, he had to see the Espada that was simply the biggest bastard, and the hardest to get.

Now he just felt stupid for loving a bastard.

-

He counted the seconds.

One…

Fifteen…

Fifty…

A hand gripped his throat, pulling him closer in a desperate embrace, one centered around dominance and

Pain.

-

He must be desperate if his thoughts made this much sense. He opened and closed his fist, feeling the nails dig into the palm. It was his left hand, the one that had been cut off then regenerated. It didn't feel like his hand anymore. The more he thought about it, and the more he looked at it, the more he realized that his hand was gone, blown to smithereens by Tousen. This was artificial, created from nothing but whatever magic those girly hairpins had. Grimmjow swallowed. Now he wanted to cut his own arm off. What the hell was wrong with him today? Maybe he missed his arm.

Maybe it wasn't his arm he was missing. Maybe he was just missing someone. He reached a hand into the darkness, feeling for the soul he lost.

-

Again, again, again…

Shit, shit, shit…

Again, again…

Repeat.

Again.

-

It was so quiet. Quiet enough so that his breath seemed to chafe at the air around, tearing apart the spirit particles and coming back at him.

It suffocated him, this lack of warmth. Not that he had needed it before,

But this was…

But what? He didn't know what, really. He just wanted to feel again, to want, to feel that heat, the passion, the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Fucking head began to ache.

-

Sweat.

His hand slipped in sweat, the friction of skin on skin splashing the drops around them.

He felt cold, despite the erotic contact that was occurring between him and his master.

As hard nails ripped into him again, he thought about how any other arrancar would kill to be him right now.

Personally, he would just kill.

Again, again…

Wait, wait…

Wait, waiting, wait, watching, wait, watch, waiting, please.

-

Love.

Don't move.

Silence, keep the silence.

It works.

Helps.

I love…

Ulquiorra… I love…

-

There was a strangled gasp.

His head was wrenched back, a hand forcing between his lips and hooking under his teeth. Maybe his jaw broke…

His arms were twisted behind his back, bound by coils and coils of leather and metal. He could feel the buckles, some of them already loose from the frenzied movements, cold against his heated skin.

It was so cold.

Hips grinding against his, Aizen…

He was jerked over on his side, pushing his jaw along the stone floor. His shoulders protested sharply, but he didn't have time. A chain rattled, pressing against his cheek.

No time

To

Think.

Grimmjow, don't…

-

You.

-

Agony lanced up his body, pain upon pain and more agony.

Everything was blurry, far too bright, washed out. He was confused, the world was spinning

Around and falling,

He was falling.

Hair was pulled, his neck and shoulder dribbling blood.

Red arched through the air as he was thrown back again. It glimmered.

Pretty…

-

"Sexta?"

Whipping around, his eyes wide…

"Gin?"

A nod. Yes. So he wasn't seeing things. Or maybe he was, just seeing Gin nod.

No sense made.

"What?" Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

Gin's fluttered open, piercing red laser-beaming Grimmjow like a cero. "What do you love the most?"

Grimmjow blinked. The first and expected reaction was whatthefuck, but he stopped just short of the sensation. He didn't have enough energy, enough essence, to be able to feel extreme confusion now. Gin's words oozed through his mind like tar, seeping into the cracks and filling the dark corners until it could no longer be ignored. His brain processed it laboriously, painfully slowly, and one by one, the syllables pieced themselves together to form the question he was supposed to answer. And then it hit him.

He didn't know.

"What is it that you need, you love? You care about?"

His mind was blank, as was his expression.

"I…"

"_Love_, Grimmjow, you need to _love_ it."

"It's not… I…"

"You. Yes, you."

"… But-"

"If you really do."

"_Love_… I… need…"

"Love, it's love."

"Love…"

"You need to hear yourself say it."

"Ulquiorra…"

"Say it."

"I-I… _love_… Ulquiorra."

Another nod. "You love him." Gin said, his smirk was gone, a frown replacing the usual grin. It was rather foreboding.

Grimmjow raised his chin a little higher. "Yes."

"Would you help him?"

Blue eyes widened. "Yes…" he breathed softly.

-

_Just…_

_Sprawled out on these steps…_

_Spitting out the blood, just spit it out_

_Screaming_

_Someone save us_

-

Grimmjow ran.

Running wasn't that hard, usually, but panic was suffocating him, making easy tasks far more demanding. His breathing was hitching as he tried not to imagine what could have Gin so upset. It wasn't normal for the renegade shinigami to worry about anything.

He wished he could sonido faster. Fucking bore, watching the doors and corridors flash by as if they were nothing but a faint beam of light. It would've been easier if Ulquiorra were here, then they could just use a Garganta-

Wait. There was something _wrong_ with Ulquiorra, that's why he wasn't here…

Wrong?! What the hell?! What- why didn't Gin specify _anything_, especially when it was important.

All Grimmjow could do was watch Gin's back as they wandered through the darkness that no white could ever brighten. Sad. Aizen's changes did not belong to Hueco Mundo, and never would have, not matter how well it seemed to work.

And then it clicked.

Sense of dread rising, Grimmjow cast out with his awareness and swiftly picked out Ulquiorra's reiatsu. The level was dangerously low, not the repressed kind of low, but the depleted kind of low. Every few moments, it would spike up then fade away again. there was something distinctly wrong with it. it felt… bad, sickly. He could almost taste the fear.

He checked a little more carefully and realized with a jolt whose reiatsu was smothering Ulquiorra's.

Aizen.

Aizen + Ulquiorra Holy fuck no way in hell shit, shit, shit.

Which Bad.

He ran faster.

-

Something in Ulquiorra's fuzzy mind registered the change, but the rest of him refused to accept it. There was a definite lack or reiatsu as Gin disappeared. He usually watched Aizen destroy his subordinates every time, and the absence was somewhat strange but unimportant enough to be ignored. And now Gin was back, and Ulquiorra's self consciousness was well aware of the shinigami's existence. But there was something else, something with Gin. Their reiatsu was enveloped in agitation and fear, one higher than the other. He didn't think about it for very long.

But he knew, somehow, that it was Grimmjow. And in his mind, the words that he favored only Grimmjow with formed.

Grimmjow, you're such a fool.

And then his eyes closed, hiding him from the world of pain and distortion that he was in now. Dimly, he heard Aizen making a series of sounds and noises that a proper god really shouldn't, and his respect for his lord lessened.

His fear for Grimmjow took its place.

-

"Shit!" Grimmjow swore, throwing himself furiously at the door. It was sealed shut, fortified by reiatsu: Aizen's and Tousen's. There was no way they would get in without expending much needed energy. He threw another cero, but it just dissipated on the hardened stone. He screamed in frustration. Looking back at Gin, his eyes widened as he saw the shinigami leaving, setting off down the hall purposefully.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!" Grimmjow shouted. His grip tightened on his zanpakuto.

Gin turned slightly so that Grimmjow could see a fraction of his face. "Getting help, fool."

Gritting his teeth, Grimmjow turned back to the resolutely closed door. Aizen must have heard him already, with all the noise he was making. So then Ulquiorra should have heard, too. Unless he was too…

Growling, he shook his head hard to get rid of the thoughts. Ulquiorra was fine, the emo prick had to be. Besides, they hadn't been in there long enough for Aizen to-

Shit. Glancing around, he tried to find anything, anywhere else where he could smash his way through. But this door was the only real way in, and his thoughts were confirmed as he ran along the walls, testing their strength.

Frustrated, he put a hand along Pantera. Drawing it fluidly along the length of the blade, he snarled, "Grind, Pantera."

A number of blue sparks burst into existence with the words, glowing softly in the light. The glare grew stronger and stronger, illuminating the hall with a blinding light as the energy and power flooded from the blade. Grimmjow closed his eyes, hoping beyond hope that this would be enough. The pressure was immense, building inside of him until it seemed to tear him apart. The only thing holding him together seemed to be the very destruction of his being.

The world exploded. An echoing boom sounded across the corridor, and thick smoke and dust filled the air. Grimmjow crouched, feeling his lithe muscles bunch powerfully with the movement. Scraping his claws fitfully across the ground, he felt the rock give way, leaving behind two-inch deep gouges in the floor.

Blue eyes snapped open and Grimmjow's coiled body sprang forward, long tail whipping through the air behind him. His now feline body snaked through the air as if it was nothing, and he raced with inhuman speed toward the door. With a crash, his fist collided with the barrier, and he felt his hand pushing through the reinforced rock. Grunting, he leapt back and tried again, this time leaving a bigger dent in the door.

Over and over again he repeated his ministrations, but the door stood firm with several deep dents and cracks to show for his efforts. Panting, he stepped back and knelt. It was no use. His released form emphasized speed and agility; his power remained at a mediocre level. The only reason his strikes affected the door at all was simply because of the speed put behind every punch.

He spat contemptuously. The reiatsu levels were spiking again inside the door, and Grimmjow didn't like it very much. He was still quite alone, but he could feel Gin's reiatsu approaching again. Finally, the bastard decided to some back. Rising, he turned toward Aizen's right hand as he appeared-

With that damn shinigami in tow. The shock of bright orange hair almost glowed in the dark. Grimmjow's nose wrinkled in disgust and he pointed, asking, "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Gin smiled deviously. "Help, of course." Turning to Ichigo, he said, "Alright, Kurosaki-kun. Let's see what you can do."

"What the hell is he going to do?!"

"Well-"

"GIN! WE. DON'T. HAVE. FUCKING. TIME!"

"Just move it, Grimmjow." Ichigo's voice was quiet, but both of them heard it. "I know what to do."

Doubtful, Grimmjow moved out of the way. Ichigo blinked, looking all the more confused but determined. Raising his hand to his face, he whipped out his Hollow mask. His knuckles whitened on Zangetsu, and he felt the agitation from both his companions. Grimly, he raised the sword.

Moments later, the door went in a huge explosion of Getsuga Tenshou and rubble.

All this for love.

-

Someone was screaming outside.

Ulquiorra's heart raced. Grimmjow was walking to his death by doing this, and he wasn't being very subtle about his intentions either. He had already lost the element of surprise, for Aizen had looked up at the first thud. Ulquiorra was allowed to stare for a moment before a hand closed in his long hair and jerked his head back. As he stared up into the eyes of his god, he found he respected Aizen a little less.

"I want to hear you say it, bitch." Aizen breathed, hot breath stirring his hair. "Who are you eternally loyal to?"

Ulquiorra's lips parted, and he gave the expected answer. "You…"

"Who are you going to die for?"

"…You…"

"What are you?"

"…"

His head was wrenched back farther, and he bit his lip to keep from gasping.

"Say it, Ulquiorra, and the pain will end." The voice was still so smooth, so cold.

"I… am… your slave, Aizen-sama." Ulquiorra gritted out, his eyes still closed.

A smile. He knew the smirk was back on his master's face.

"Good."

-

"You're dead, fucker!" Grimmjow didn't wait for the debris to clear. He simply shot blindly into the room, screaming obscenities into the darkness with abandon. His fury poured out in waves and he quickly found Aizen against the wall. Ulquiorra was with him.

Just the sight of the two made his blood go beyond boiling. His blood had been boiling for a long time, but now it simply vaporized with the nuclear explosion that was his reaction. Ulquiorra was kneeling on the ground, his clothes hanging off his shoulders, wrists bound painfully tight with wide straps of leather and chained to the wall. He looked utterly defeated, his half-lidded eyes fixed on the ground, tangled hair partially obscuring his face. Blood seeped from cuts and scratches along his torso and trickled down from his lips. Aizen had him pressed against the wall, one hand restraining the Espada while the other toyed with the edge of Ulquiorra's hakama. As Ichigo and Gin followed, he turned to smirk at them, his eyes taunting and cold. They froze, and the condescending grin became a more impassive, as if they had come here by accident and would be leaving soon. With a slight tip of his head, he signaled Tousen to attack. Gin smiled brutally, welcoming his old ally with a drawn blade.

But all Grimmjow could see were the eyes, those icy brown eyes that betrayed no sense of remorse, no sense of emotions whatsoever. He hated condescending eyes.

He snapped. "DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID!" he launched himself at Aizen, tearing him away from Ulquiorra and swinging him around. His expression was nothing short of deranged, eyes wide with fangs bared. He threw the shinigami to the ground, watching with a small sense of satisfaction as Aizen rose again. The brown eyes turned sardonically back to his. Blue eyes widened with fury and his hand shot forward, gripping the other man's throat.

"GOD DAMNIT! I'LL DESTROY YOU, I'M GONNA RIP YOU APART AND TAKE THE PIECES AND HANG THEM FOR THE CROWS. I'LL-"

"Grimmjow."

The soft voice broke through the haze of anger and Grimmjow turned, blue eyes glaring.

"Get out of here, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra said, his eyes looking a little more melancholy than usual. "You will get yourself killed, and I won't be able to help you this time." He said it so calmly Grimmjow wasn't even sure he heard it right, or if he was sane enough to understand what was happening. Or if he cared.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Don't be a fool." Ulquiorra's voice rose, and a little of his terror for Grimmjow's life showed in his eyes. In spite of the situation, Grimmjow couldn't help but feel a small sense of arrogance.

"Stop it. I came here to help you, so just shut your face and-"

"Grimmjow, you must leave. You must understand that this will help neither you nor me! You will die, Grimmjow, and what kind of person would I be if I let that happen?" Ulquiorra was tugging at his restraints now, clearly agitated. "How could anyone say I loved you if I let that happen?!"

Grimmjow's eyes widened fractionally. "Wait-"

"Grimmjow! Run, get away from here or you will get yourself killed-"

"Because I give a fuck about that, Ulquiorra. Now concentrate your emo bastard self on getting out of there before-" his sentence was cut short as Aizen pulled away and sank a fist into his stomach. Grimmjow doubled over, gasping. Recovering quickly, he kicked out with his leg, catching Aizen on the hip and throwing him back long enough for Grimmjow to gain the advantage. Aizen didn't wait to die, but drew his sword and plunged it down at the Sexta Espada. Dark blood flew through the air as it grazed Grimmjow's shoulder.

Ulquiorra twisted and bucked his shoulders furiously, struggling to free himself. The chain tautened, then slackened again and the leather bindings snapped and creaked with the force being put upon them. There was no visible progress being made. He spun around and kicked hard at the wall surrounding the tether, but the metal still refused to give. For the first time in his life, he was confused, panicked, and he didn't relish the feeling. He could hear Grimmjow's raging cries and feel Aizen's smirk as they battled, triggering small explosions of energy with each blow they dealt. Tousen went flying by overhead, and Ulquiorra was forced to duck as Shinsou went shooting after him. He pulled a little harder, gritting his teeth as he strained against his bonds.

Suddenly, Ichigo was beside him. He barely blinked, but turned to face the shinigami as he raised Zangetsu.

"Just hold still, please hold still…" his hands trembled violently. "I- I'm trying to helping you…"

Ulquiorra stared impassively up at him from where he knelt. "Trash." He whispered.

Hazel eyes widened, but his expression seemed to relax, determination replacing that of anxiety. He slid his zanpakuto under the leather and attempted to saw it apart, but it refused to break.

"It was fortified by Aizen's reiatsu…" Ulquiorra's eyes were wide with impatience.

"I know." Ichigo gritted out as he swiped at it again. This time, there was an audible snap as the material broke, and Ulquiorra wasted no time in grabbing the collar around his neck and crushing it. Pulling the clinging shards of metal away. He leapt to his feet, whipping around to face Ichigo.

"You're done here, shinigami. This is a Hollow's fight." He said swiftly, straightening his clothes.

Ichigo shook his head. "I came here to help, I told you that already." Suddenly, he spun around, raising his blade in time to block a blow from Aizen. Ichigo's eyes narrowed. He had already seen this trick before.

But Aizen was not the least disturbed by the shinigami's determination. Instead, he increased the pressure on Zangetsu, forcing Ichigo to push back harder. The strain was evident on the boy's face as he gritted his teeth, a vein in his neck jumping. Aizen tilted his head to the side, laughing silently at the display of naivety.

Sliding out from under Zangetsu, he freed his sword and stepped to the side. Ichigo suddenly found his stance horribly unbalanced and he stumbled, still trying to stay on his feet. Aizen, with a look of supreme indifference, swung Kyouga Suigetsu down at the shinigami's head, aiming simply for the quickest, most humiliating kill.

His blade never reached his target. There was a sharp crack as Ulquiorra forced his way between Aizen and Ichigo, using his hand to once again block an attack. But as his skin came in contact with the metal, the sword cut in slightly, much to his surprise. A line of red appeared along his wrist and the bright blood trickled slowly down the pale arm. Ulquiorra's eyes flicked briefly to the source and disregarded it. Behind him, he could almost hear Ichigo building up for a protest.

"What are you-" He was never allowed to finish. Swinging his arm back, Ulquiorra struck the shinigami on the side of his head. The blow was not strong enough to kill, but it threw him a good fifty feet, effectively knocking him out.

"My apologies, shinigami." He said softly, "I cannot allow you to interfere."

And Aizen smiled, removing his sword from Ulquiorra's wrist. "Shouldn't you be more careful as to watch what is happening around you?" he admonished caustically.

"What… are you talking about?" Ulquiorra said, his eyes wary.

"If I'm here, then just what happened to your poor Grimmjow?"

Ulquiorra stared in horror, and his sharp, analytical mind processed exactly how the rest of the battle would play out before it happened. He whirled around, eyes searching out only one person, just one.

"Grimmjow!" he shouted desperately, "Grimmjow, get away-"

And just as he was about to move to help the other arrancar, an arm whipped out of the gloom and struck him in the throat. He coughed violently, the words catching in his throat. The blow flung him back and he hit the wall with a thud, still choking from the attack. Struggling to draw in breath, he looked up in time to see Aizen's leering face turn away and toward Grimmjow.

Blue eyes widened with shock as the Aizen he was currently struggling against disappeared, his claws scoring thin air.

"Wha-" he whipped around, staring at the one who had caused the illusion.

Aizen Sousuke smiled, the expression almost friendly if it had been under different circumstances. There was a flicker of movement, and the sword flashed through the darkness. Grimmjow couldn't move, only watch as Aizen's blade cut into him. He could only watch as his blood poured out in a steady wave. He could only watch as Aizen turned to finish him off. Shock had paralyzed him, and he did nothing as the zanpakuto descended upon him, flashing dully in the dim light. He saw the way the metal glinted, and in that moment, he realized something. He knew.

The pain was real.

All the energy he had left drained out of him. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees. Hot blood was washing over him slowly in sickening waves and he watched impassively as the pool of red around him grew larger with each second. His vision swam as his lungs stopped drawing in air. Then, all he could hear was the weakening throb of his heart as it struggled to keep him alive.

It hurt.

Aizen's smile widened as he watched Grimmjow fall with a small splash to the ground. Blood seeped across the floor, sinking into the cracks as it went. The air suddenly grew a lot more silent; the only sounds were Gin's gleeful giggles and Tousen's cries of frustration mingling with ringing metal. He moved to look at Ulquiorra-

A fist smashed into the side of his head, throwing him a good twenty feet. His expression barely changed, but the faint gasp was the only indication Ulquiorra needed that Aizen had been surprised. He launched himself forward, his foot catching Aizen's sword arm sharply, forcing him to loosen his grip on the zanpakuto. Any normal being would have had his arm broken. Ulquiorra shot out a hand and gripped the hand that was still closed around the hilt. His green eyes were dark with anger, but the rest of his face remained smooth and cold. Whipping his arm around, he threw Aizen across the chamber, at the same time wrenching the sword from his grip.

Advancing on the renegade shinigami, Ulquiorra threw the blade into a corner. He concentrated all his anger on the one he had once seen as God, on the one he had once respected. He stared down coldly, fury rolling off of him in bitter waves.

Aizen pushed himself into sitting position. "You've changed, my little arrancar. I had always imagined that you were eternally loyal to me, but I suppose my hopes were groundless."

Ulquiorra's dark mouth tightened. "Only the foolish believe in a god, Aizen."

There was a silence, and then Aizen laughed. The sound was chilling, echoing sightlessly around the stone walls. Aizen threw his head back and laughed, laughed, and it seemed the darkness laughed with him. It seemed the darkness laughed at the misery and grief of the world, at the fear and despair, at the hatred that encompassed everything in its iron grip. The world had truly broken, and Aizen laughed.

Ulquiorra remained impassive, staring down at his creator, but could not stop the faintest feeling of apprehension at the sound.

"This," Aizen gasped, "is why I love you, bitch." Another fit of laughter. Ulquiorra stared, uncomprehending.

"You really are disgusting." He said tonelessly.

"Disgusting doesn't quite fit, does it, Ulquiorra?" Aizen smiled. Slowly, he raised his eyes to apathetic green ones. "Tell me. Did you love him?"

Ulquiorra blinked. "I don't believe you deserve to hear that from me."

Aizen had stopped laughing. "I don't believe you deserve to love him after what you did to him."

Silence.

"Look around you, Ulquiorra!" Aizen gestured at Grimmjow's body, at Ichigo's still form, at Gin and Tousen still locked in combat. Blood everywhere. "Look at what happens whenever you come around! If you had loved him, Ulquiorra-"

"What would you know of love?"

"Plenty." Aizen smirked, "I think plenty more than you do."

"What?"

Aizen leaned back, smug look still in place. "Seriously. I made you my Cuatro, my favorite for a reason. You killed them! Everything you've done was wrong; you've failed, Ulquiorra."

Nothing but shock could find its way to Ulquiorra's features.

"You weren't strong enough in the end, were you? You weren't perceptive enough to stop it before it all happened. Failure. Something you've grown to hate. But now you've become exactly that which you despise. You have fallen."

Ulquiorra sucked in breath harshly, eyes widening. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his pockets, trembling slightly.

"Stay away from people, Ulquiorra. They hurt near you. Either that or they die. Grimmjow's dead." Aizen's eyes slid mockingly to the prone form on the floor. "Too bad. He was a good arrancar, but nobody takes anything from me while I'm still using it."

There was barely a pause between silences, but Ulquiorra cringed at every hard note in the words, sensing the truth behind the smile.

"I like to finish using my tools before I throw them away."

Suddenly, Aizen rose, the entire motion fluid and easy as if he hadn't just been thrown across a room like a rag doll. Reaching his hand out, he cupped Ulquiorra's cheek in his palm. There was a flinching in the green eyes as Ulquiorra shrank back, his shoulders jerking. The grip on his jaw tightened as he was pulled closer, closer, until space between them was nonexistent. Their lips brushed so briefly it almost couldn't have happened. And he did nothing to defend himself.

As Aizen stepped back, he noted the anger and humiliation burning in Ulquiorra's reptilian eyes. His expression softened as he ran a finger along the angular jaw and over the dark lips. All other sounds were extraneous, muffled sounds to balance the lack of words between them. And suddenly, the world didn't matter anymore. It was just this memory that replayed and recycled and repeated. And he did nothing to defend himself.

If you want to get out alive…

Brown eyes were mesmerizing, and he sank, drowning in the depths of those eyes. Aizen. Shinigami. God. Not god. The hand slipped down his neck and caressed the edges of his Hollow Hole, mockingly, teasing. And he once again did nothing to defend himself.

Pointless.

Then, Aizen drew away swiftly and walked away. He ignored Tousen; the former shinigami was already barely conscious, beaten back by Gin's continuous battering. The latter was exhausted as well, his breaths coming in sharp gasps as he dropped to his knees.

Ulquiorra paid no mind. His eyes were fixed on Grimmjow's motionless body. Slowly, haltingly, he drew closer to the blood soaked form. His footsteps made no sound as he dragged himself through the sticky pools of blood. The scent was strong in his mouth and he could feel it, gushing out over his tongue and over his teeth. The red washed over him, eating him, taking him in. His life and death engulfed him, and a sharp spike of pain lanced through his heart as he looked down upon the still form at his feet.

And then he dropped, falling to his knees beside Grimmjow. Blood was splattered over his clothes as he did so, but he couldn't see it. The darkness, the white walls, the mockery of hope; he couldn't see it. He just stared down at that which became what he vowed never to do. Love. With trembling hands, he lifted the body from the ground, cradling Grimmjow's head against his chest. His lungs suddenly seemed to stop working, and his breath hitched as it caught in his chest. His eyes blurred but he was unable to cry. The streaks running down his face had long since become a shadow of these emotions he had lost, testimony to a concept that didn't exist in his world anymore.

Blue eyes fluttered open, glazed and dulled. Ulquiorra watched as the gaze focused and moved agonizingly to him.

"Ulquiorra." Once again, it was not a question.

Ulquiorra bit his lip, remembering the last time he had heard his name spoken like this. Just a few days had passed, and yet, he could be finding Grimmjow lying in the sand again, torn to shreds and quite incapable of putting the words into a question.

"You are such a fool, Grimmjow." He murmured, pale hand brushing the blue hair from Grimmjow's eyes.

Grimmjow smiled, the first smile in his life that was not a deranged grin that always appeared in battle, nor the taunting smirk that he had on the rest of the time. He smiled because he was happy, truly glad that he could die here, and Ulquiorra's green eyes would be the last thing he'd see.

He smiled.

And Ulquiorra cried.

_A:N_

_For reference, he didn't really cry. He can't cry, remember. So he... fake cried, I dunno. And Gin's relationship in all this crap will become clear, I promise.  
_

_Next chapter is the last! (I think. I'm not sure.) Well, I planned it to be the last. Thank you to all who read and reviewed, I really appreciate it._

_Augh, and some of you reviewers have to write stories. I wanna read them..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Last chapter! the very last one, yep. -gasp-  
_

_Well, it's been uber fun writing this fic, and i'd like to thank my readers and reviewers billions of times! Thank you so much for moral support and for... reading. :D_

_This chapter has very little dramatic happenings. I tried to make it as conclusion-y as possible, hope that worked out. It's actually quite short, I guess i didn't have much to write about in the end..._

_Any grammar/spelling mistakes are purely your imagination._

_No, I'm kidding. I proofread it before I put it up, but still unsure as to whether I did a good job or not._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or anything._

_Enjoy le final chapter._

Chapter 6

-

A pale hand ghosted over the desktop, slender fingers pausing to trace the patterns the wooden grain created. Slowly, it smudged a finger into the dark droplets of blood that stained the surface, smearing it like ink. The hand continued across the table until it met a shard, a very sharp shard, gleaming silver even in the dark.

Ulquiorra picked up the piece, turning it so it caught the solitary ray of moonlight. It was once part of something bigger, something that meant more to him than this small angular bit of metal. But it was also the only thing he managed to salvage. It had been six months.

Slowly, the ache in his chest built up to a paramount again, and he shut his eyes against the darkness in which he could not see anyways. Blue. Blue and six. These things meant something to him.

Anger.

That meant something, too.

The green eyes snapped open again, then focused on the shard in his hand. Decisively, he raised the blade to his arm and stabbed, feeling the cold metal just under his skin, the sting and then the burn. It would ache later, he knew. But now, it just throbbed dully, the edge of the pain departing as soon as the piece of steel did. The piece of Pantera.

And the ache in his heart lessened.

With a swipe of his hand, he blurred the red across the desktop again, shaking off the remnants that still clung to his hand. Setting the last remaining triangle of Grimmjow's sword down, he turned his gaze on the door just before it opened. Blood glimmered dully in the shaft of light that streamed in. Ulquiorra rose.

A smiling face peered through the gap, blocking the light. Long fingered hands pushed the door all the way open and Gin stepped inside, robes swishing dramatically in his wake.

"Hello…" he said, smiling playfully. "How is our Cuatro Espada doing today?" the narrowed eyes swiveled and focused on the blood on the table. Taking the final step to close the gap between them, Gin reached over and grabbed Ulquiorra's arm, raising it to eye level.

"What do we have here?" he said quietly, peering at the scars and cuts that marred the white skin on Ulquiorra's arm. The new gash continued to leak blood, dripping sluggishly over Gin's fingers.

Gin gave a quiet laugh, then closed the space between them. Their lips met, kisses soft as a butterfly landing. Slowly, they moved closer, their bodies pressed against each other's, mouths never parting. One would expect Gin to try to eat your mouth off your face in a situation like this, but his movements were as fragile as a soap bubble, giving and taking nothing more than silent emotion.

They broke apart for air, and Gin said, gesturing to the scarred arm, "You know what they call this in the human world?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he wrapped his lips around Ulquiorra's again, a hand moving up to tangle in the dark hair. Ulquiorra's eyes fluttered closed, his brow knitting very subtly. He leaned into the shinigami's touch, aching for some warmth that might chase this fear away. Gin's hand fisted, then relaxed. Shifting slightly, he brushed his cheek against the Espada's before he pulled away. Ulquiorra stared at him with large eyes, the slitted pupils dilated.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

Gin smiled broadly. "Emo."

Again, they connected, soft breaths whispering over heated skin. Their lithe bodies curled around one another's, becoming increasingly entangled until they couldn't have escaped from each other even if they tried. Then they pulled away again, their breaths mingling through open mouths. Gin caressed the pale face, fingers tracing the trails of color that split the white.

"Emo?" Ulquiorra repeated.

"Yes, emo. They hate the world and themselves, and promote the ritual of self-mutilation." Gin's face took on a mock pensive expression, "What a strange religion it is."

Another quiet exchange of emotions, then, "And I am supposed to be _emo_, as you say."

Gin's smile grew wider. "Yes, my little Emocar."

Sliding a hand under the bone mask, he dragged the Espada back into their bond of passion once more. It was slow, quiet. There were no sudden movements, no impulsive actions at all. Their lips were barely touching, the exchange wrought more of love than lust. Hesitantly, Gin stepped backwards and they moved, little by little, farther and farther along the room until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Sinking down to the pristine white sheets, he pulled Ulquiorra with him, hand still placed securely against the Espada's cheek. Sighing softly into the kiss, Gin let his tongue flicker out and trace the edge of Ulquiorra's dark mouth before withdrawing.

They flowed apart without a sound and Ulquiorra's bottom lip immediately disappeared under his teeth. Gin smiled, a rather suggestive one. Ulquiorra didn't smile, but he wasn't frowning anymore. Glancing to the left, he realized Gin still had his ravaged arm by the wrist. Droplets of blood were dotting the sheets and Ulquiorra stared, counting them all.

How long?

Six… months.

-

_Someone was screaming, screaming and screaming. It grated on his ears, the cries of grief and rage tearing him to pieces from the inside. And he knew, somewhere in his mind, he was the once screaming._

_If this was love, then it hurt too much to be logical._

_That made it illogical._

_He curled over Grimmjow's motionless body, breathing in the scent of blood and fear, and the smell of ruffled blue hair and icy eyes. He laid his cheek cold against Grimmjow's and felt his own breath stir over smooth skin. He was no longer breathing._

_And Ulquiorra sighed, letting the last of his energy leave his body with the air. The world tilted on its axis, and he fell down, down into whatever abyss that appeared in such an absence. His breaths ragged in his ears, he staggered upright, still cradling Grimmjow's broken body in his arms. Ulquiorra was blind, he couldn't see in this darkness that wrapped the world in its embrace._

_Or maybe it was just the room._

_His mind was blank, empty of emotion or any rational thought. The only thing that mattered to him now was to find something, anything. What was not important, but just to find it…_

_He stumbled. Looking down, around Grimmjow, he realized Ichigo was still unconscious, lying there in the bliss of ignorance. Ulquiorra did nothing. He simply stood there, thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind yet none at all. He stared. The only thing he knew now was the solid, dead weight that Grimmjow created and the cold that was spreading slowly through the cold that he already was. The green eyes never strayed from the prone form below him, but they didn't see anything. He couldn't see anything in this dark._

_It had to be the room._

_There was a faint flicker of motion and a faint wind tugged at his hair. Ulquiorra's eyes swiveled to lock onto the red ones of Gin. Normally narrowed eyes were now wide with surprise and pity, boring into his soul like some sort of… soul drill or whatever. He couldn't think right now._

_Thinking was illogical right now._

_Suddenly, the faintest of words filtered through the haze that was his mind. Gin's quicksilver voice darted through the fog, clear but quiet._

"… _that Orihime girl. We need to find her. She can heal, right? So we'll just…"_

_The sounds died, fading with what little coherency he had left. Slowly, Ulquiorra turned towards Gin. His lips parted and when he spoke, he couldn't stop his voice from trembling._

"_Bring the shinigami trash."_

_-_

_The door to Orihime's cell opened with a soft click, swinging open on oiled hinges. Ulquiorra stood, swaying, in the doorway, his eyes weary and dull. In his arms was Grimmjow. Orihime's eyes widened as she took in the sight; it was horribly familiar._

"_Woman…" Ulquiorra rasped, his voice uncharacteristically rough._

_She stared up at him for a moment, then nodded obediently. Ulquiorra set Grimmjow down on the floor, watching as the body flopped lifelessly, limp as a rag doll. Orihime fell to her knees beside the Espada's motionless form and raised her hands._

"_I…" she said, but her voice cracked and her resolve faded. Taking a deep breath, she began again, "I reject." The warm glow filled the room once again, edging the dark shadows of Ulquiorra's face. He glared hard at the floor, jaw clenched._

_Suddenly, she looked up again, startled. Gin had appeared at Ulquiorra's side, cradling another body in his arms. Her steel grey eyes widened as she recognized the shape, but she didn't breath a word. Instead, she turned back to the task at hand, concentrating on Grimmjow._

_Something was wrong. Her powers were being blocked, and what little that got past the impeding force was instantly negated and ineffective. The wounds were not closing, and Grimmjow was not breathing. Something was going terribly wrong. She tried again, ramming her strength against the barrier, but to no effect. Tears burned in her eyes as she struggled, waiting, hoping that this would somehow work out._

_Biting her lip, she smashed the obstruction with all her might, and it shattered, fragmenting under her constant attack. At once, the wounds began to sap her reiatsu at an alarming rate, eating away at her energy faster than anything else she had ever experienced. She gasped, shrinking back but the feeling, the hate that radiated from the body was so intense, so excruciating that she couldn't breath, couldn't think. With a cry of shock and fear, she was thrown from the body, landing painfully on the floor. Her wide eyes turned from Grimmjow to Ulquiorra, who was now on his feet._

"_Can't…" she whimpered, "I… can't. It won't let me…" she let out a sob of despair._

_Ulquiorra stared for a moment, eyes blank and uncomprehending. And then he lost it. Slowly, he advanced on Inoue Orihime, eyes cold and glassy. When he reached her, he dropped to his knees and offered her his hand. Trembling with shock and fear, she took it._

_Without warning, he yanked her hard, jerking her off the ground and towards him so that their faces were mere centimeters apart._

"_Woman." He snarled, his voice quiet and menacing, "Do you understand? Do you know the story of my life? For the entirety of my existence, I have gained nothing and lost everything, giving it all up for that bastard I saw as a God. I was nothing, emptiness bound by imaginary chains. I never broke those chains, and I never will. They will continue to destroy me, taking everything I have until the only thing I can call my own is my dignity. And then I will even lose that. So when I finally find something… I am to lose it through some glitch in logic? Are you not in the possession of powers beyond this world's comprehension? Then tell me, why. Why is it that you fail?"_

_She was still crying, tears streaming down her cheeks in a tide of grief and pity. Raising her eyes to green ones, she recognized the agony and the raw panic in their depths, writhing and battling with Ulquiorra's self control. Self control that he had spent lifetimes perfecting. And it was breaking down before her eyes. She didn't know whether to scream or cry for him. So she did both._

_Gin shot forward and into action. Stopping for a split second, he grabbed the nearest weapon, Grimmjow's blade, and smashed the flat of it against the back of Ulquiorra's neck. The Espada collapsed, dropping like a stone in water into Orihime's arms. Gin swung the weapon again, and it shattered, glittering fragments filling the air before dying on the ground._

_Ulquiorra's wide eyes gazed into Orihime's. Her eyebrows knitted together in remorse as she laid a hand on his temple. Suspicion flickered briefly through his features before Orihime sent a stab of reiatsu through her hand. His eyes widened for a moment, then fluttered shut, his body growing limp and motionless. Orihime let her tears fall, crying for the pain that filled the room. She lowered the unconscious Espada to the floor, all the while aware of Gin's blood red eyes watching her every move._

"_Heal Ichigo." He said shortly. "You can do no more to Grimmjow."_

_Orihime wiped her eyes, trying her best to control herself. "Was it Aizen?" she asked. Her voice was once against steady._

_She received no answer, but she needed none._

_-_

_Everything was blurred, sluggish. His breath came in quick gasps as his eyes widened, watching the metal glimmer as he fell, down, down, forever downwards. He wanted-needed- to scream, but it was too slow, the reaction wouldn't come fast enough. He just watched, silent, unwilling, as the blade ripped him apart._

_Agony. Sheer agony exploded, fiery pain burning every nerve in his body. He wanted to scream._

_More pain, it came for him again, hard and fast, cold and malignant. He wanted to scream._

_It burned like acid, his lifeblood, streaming down his body. He wanted to scream._

_All he could see was red, pooling on the ground as he fell. He wanted to scream._

_He watched as his hair, shocking blue, was dyed red by the blood. He wanted to scream._

_It flowed in under his mask, pressed against his cheek. Hot and sticky, it burned into him._

_Please. Just let me scream, one last time-_

_Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open. He was gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat. That dream. It was not his life, not his memory, yet it brought forth this desperate ache in his chest, as if something was missing. He blinked, trying to clear his mind. Sitting up, he realized he was back in his own room. Strange. Glancing around, he realized Grimmjow was not there, and Gin was gone, too. But… Grimmjow was…_

_And then it struck him with the weight of a thousand ton boulder. Grimmjow was dead._

_Dead._

_And gone._

_The irony was appalling. Grimmjow, the one who, although rough and uncouth, had never faulted at anything, was dead. And he, Ulquiorra, was still alive while he never deserved it in the first place. He wished, like many others suffering such losses, that it was he who had been killed by Aizen, not Grimmjow. Grimmjow never did anything to deserve such a fate. He was supposed to be alive, this story seemed to be going horribly wrong._

_He should have figured, anything as illogical as this life would mess up eventually._

_And he deserved worse._

_Grimacing, he struggled out of bed just as the door opened, revealing Gin's unsmiling face. __Ulquiorra stared blankly. __Slowly, the shinigami picked his way into the room, which was essentially empty besides the desk and bed. Moving slowly but gracefully, he sat down fluidly on the bed, the sheets wrinkling beneath him._

_Pausing for another moment, he said, "Ichigo took the girl home."_

_Ulquiorra didn't even blink. These things hardly mattered anymore._

"_Grimmjow… as you know, is…" He trailed off, frowning as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth._

"_The woman couldn't heal him?" Ulquiorra demanded, rage smothering the grief in his voice._

_Gin stared up at him, his expression regretful, "Ulquiorra, this is Aizen we are talking about. He knows Orihime's power through and through, and I do not doubt that he considered her abilities before he attacked." He looked away, "Ichigo was not killed because _you_ disabled him from battle. But Grimmjow. He died at Aizen's hands, and Orihime's powers were annulled when she tried to heal him."_

_Ulquiorra denied it furiously, "What does it matter? Grimmjow shouldn't be dead, he shouldn't have even been involved in this! This was completely wrong, everything, anything went wrong! It is not supposed to happen like this!" he whipped around and began to pace the room, eyes hard, "What does it matter? In the end, I just killed everyone. I was simply the inconvenience to the world. That much is understandable, but what I do not comprehend is why, WHY AM I ALIVE AND GRIMMJOW DEAD?"_

_He rounded on Gin as he finished his sentence, his expression desperate, confused. Gin stared back, sorrow apparent in his eyes. He was not sad for Grimmjow's death, nor was he sorry for Ichigo's sufferings. He was troubled by Ulquiorra's thought process, now so easy to read as his façade of calm finally crumbled. He was blaming himself, hating himself in such a way that Gin didn't know how to react. He wanted to help, but it would probably do more harm than anything else. He was no longer in control of the situation, and it was not at all to his liking._

_Down, way down in the depths of his heart, Gin knew Ulquiorra would never forget what had happened. He knew that the Espada would replay these nightmares countless times for the rest of his existence. And he knew, somehow, that the only way he would finally let go would be in the final moments of death. Only then would he forget at last. Love was a terrible thing. It made or destroyed a man, shaping their life like nothing else. Ulquiorra's fate had been decided the moment he had loved Grimmjow, and it would be set on this course until something intervened._

_It was then that he decided that time would wait no more. Rising, he moved forward and before Ulquiorra could react, Gin had wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. Ulquiorra stiffened for a moment, his heart beating frantically as his memories of Aizen and Grimmjow clashed. Then, it didn't matter any more. Closing his eyes, he leaned into the warmth that he wanted so badly right now, wishing, hoping to never have to remember again. Ulquiorra could feel Gin's hands resting solidly against his back, and he realized he needed nothing else right now. Sighing, he let the world slip away into nothingness._

_And he felt that he would never need to scream again._

_-_

Ulquiorra pushed away from Gin and got to his feet. Stepping back, he watched as Gin followed, straightening his robes. The shinigami's smile was milder than his everyday one, easier and far more human than usual. But Ulquiorra, of course, never smiles.

Gin's hand was still wrapped securely around the bleeding arm. Slowly, he raised it to his mouth and began to lick the blood from the pale skin. His tongue scraped softly over the scars and half healed cuts, cleaning the blood away bit by bit. His warm breath whispered over the ravaged skin and Ulquiorra shuddered, closing his eyes contentedly. Gin smiled as he continued, licking away until the arm was once again pale and white. Lowering his hand, he raised his head to look at the Espada before him, his face half hidden in shadow.

Green eyes opened again, the cold emptiness now gone, though Gin knew it was only temporary. Everything Ulquiorra now became was brief, only a fleeting haven that he was forever seeking out in hopes of forgetting.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, indicating the shard that lay on the desk.

Ulquiorra only stared. How indeed.

-

_He was alone again, back in the darkness. Alone again. Again. His entire body ached and burned and he closed his eyes against the inky blackness, partly out of humiliation. It still hurt, the memory of what Aizen did to him. And he had been such a pathetic fool to allow something like that to happen. If he had stopped it, if he had been… stronger, then maybe Grimmjow would still be here, laughing about something he did not really understand. But that was the comfort of laughing with Grimmjow. You never needed to understand, you just had to laugh._

_He would never cry, though. He would never succumb to the pitiful state that so many useless beings expected in situations like this. No. He would grieve, but tears are for the foolish, who are never crying for anyone other than themselves. Those are tears. They were made completely of self-pity and wasted time, a superficial show, an act for the vapid individuals hoping for something they could never get. Tears. Simply the pastime many partake in instead of acting to remember, striving to live. They will waste away into nothing and those… tears… laced up in pity._

_Disgusting._

_Hypocritical._

_For he wanted nothing more than to just cry right now. He wanted to just waste away, thinking of all the things he could have done, everything he could have changed._

_He wished Gin was still here._

_And then he hated himself a little more. He had already been the pathetic one, the pitiable thing that had always been too weak to save himself. And now, when too many had already suffered because of his wretched actions, he still had the nerve to hide from the world, to build another barrier and cower behind it. He was still trying to escape his problems. How many others would die because of him? How many would be left if he continued to…_

_Cry._

_Suddenly, he was aware of a sharper pain in his back, and the fresh blood that still seeped from the wound near his shoulder blade. Twisting around, he pressed a hand against the injury, trying to stem the flow._

_Only then was he aware of the thing that was lodged firmly in the cut. It seemed large enough to dig deep enough to hurt, yet was small enough so that it had escaped his notice._

_Ulquiorra pulled the object out with a sickening squelch, wincing as more blood came with it, trickling down his back. Bringing the offending item closer to his face, he wiped off the clinging drops of red and stared._

_It was a triangular piece of metal, bright silver in the dark and slightly tinted by his blood. Looking hard at it, he wondered how it came to be there in the first place._

_And then he remembered. Gin, Pantera, Orihime…_

_Damn it._

_And for a moment, all he felt was hatred and yet more pain. He shadows continued to eat at his mind, taking him apart piece-by-piece as he sank further down into a cycle of demise._

_Ulquiorra stabbed the shattered blade into the wall, feeling spider web cracks appear on the smooth surface. Slowly, he removed his hand and stared at it. The sharp metal hadn't even scratched him. Snarling with frustration, wrenched the piece out of the wall again and stabbed it, hard, through his wrist, feeling with satisfaction the way it dug into his flesh and scraped bone. Pulling it free, he speared his arm again, mentally smiling when pain lanced up the limb._

_Suddenly, he felt like a little less._

_-_

He never wanted to do anything else, ever again. Sitting here, Gin's hand gripping his wrist, just staring into the shadows, for that was all his life was made of right now. He wished this moment would last forever, and he could just forget the world and just wait here to die.

But that was something only trash would do.

Ulquiorra shook himself back to life, frowning slightly in the dark. The vivid light that streamed in through the open door seemed like a mockery, something that imitated a pure color instead of being. Everytime he walked around Las Noches, that was all he thought about when he looked at the white walls and floors, even the ceiling. The entire place was a lie, a lie created by Aizen.

So in his few solitary moments, he would retreat to his quarters, relieved by the darkness of the room. He hated any missions involving the human world now, the stupid place with all its vibrant colors and sunlight. It burned terribly, and he always tried to make such missions brief and efficient. Not for Aizen, but just to escape all the color.

He did not know how he had survived until now. The loss of Grimmjow had created a void that stretched farther than he had ever imagined, emptying him of life. He went about his daily routine with passive indifference, his once fluid movements subtly stiffer and a little more apathetic. He no longer strove to fill his position of Numero Cuatro, and though he was never stripped of his rank, the other Espada noticed, and a few had already attempted to tear him down. Still others tried to find the root of this problems, but most were leaving him alone, either through fear or pity he could not say. He rarely spoke without a reason, though that was hardly a change. The only ones he ever bothered to acknowledge were Gin and Halibel, whom he had no problem with.

When it was quiet and he was alone, he would wonder whether Grimmjow could ever remember him, or the memories, the emotions that they had shared. Was he even worth remembering, or was that another portion of life that Soul Society had removed? And when Aizen finally tired of his Cuatro Espada, would he, Ulquiorra, be able to remember anything at all? Or was this imitation of existence even worth keeping? Was it even worth living?

Did he even deserve…?

And as he sat in silence beside Gin, in the darkness of Hueco Mundo, he asked himself that question a thousand times, and a thousand times over again, never filling in the blank. His heart continued to beat, his eyes continued to see, but what was the purpose? Why did he live, why did he remember?

He had imagined that this was all he would ever need, but he was wrong. And right. There was no hope of recovery for him, just like there was no hope to save Grimmjow. But still, fate dragged him over every bump in his path, regardless as to whether he was dead or alive after each encounter. He just kept moving along until he felt nothing was left, nothing was worth saving in the world except this moment.

Sliding his hand into Gin's, he held on as if his life depended on it, and in a ways, it did. Tightening his grip for the briefest of seconds, he let go and straightened, just as the door was pushed open.

Halibel stepped inside, arms crossed. Her collar hid her face, though it barely covered anything else, and only her eyes could be seen, watching the two. Ulquiorra felt a shiver of panic run through him and attempted to quell his fears.

Halibel spoke, "Cuatro." She said, "Aizen-sama wants you."

Ulquiorra wondered if he had imagined the hesitation in her voice.

-

End

_Alright, I admit, I could have used someone better besides Halibel, but I like her so much! She seems uber badass for some reason, even though we haven't seen her do much yet! Uh... well, if it makes you feel better, imagine it was Stark or something instead of Halibel._

_Did it work out? Was the story okay? Did you even _like _it? Tell me, which means review! Seriously, last chapter guys, please review!_

_And thank you very much for reading this far._


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